Rescue Me, Angela, mature version
by dancingdragon3
Summary: Third story in the Rescue Me series. AU version of season 3.5 Fugitives. Sylar, Peter, and Luke go to NYC to rescue Angela. Sylar and Peter finally admit some things to one another. They meet up with Nathan, Noah, and Claire. Slash and graphic sex.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Angela

Author: dancingdragon3

Pairing: Sylar/Peter, Angela/Daniel

Genre: AU, action/adventure, slash, romance, hurt/comfort

Rating: NC-17

Length: 20,000 words over all, in four parts.

Contains: erotic asphyxiation, post-sex rimming

Special Guest Star Appearance by: Malcolm McDowell, as Daniel Linderman

Summary: AU season 3.5, volume 4, Fugitives. The action here picks up during Cold Snap. Sylar, Peter, and Luke have teamed up, and with Rebel's help are going to protect special's from the government. It's Angela's turn to be rescued (Hence the guest star. Christine Rose has a crush on him in RL).

Disclaimer: The show Heroes and it's characters are the property of NBC and Tim Kring. No rights infringement intended. The song Radar belongs to Ms. Spears.

Notes: I've added a couple extra days to the timeline between the end of Shades of Gray and the end of Cold Snap. Let's say that Nathan didn't get outed by Danko as quickly as he did, okay? Sylar has all his season 1 powers, plus Meredith's fire, and Doyle's puppet-man power which he took in Dual.

Beta by adahleida

* * *

><p>Angela, the love of my life<p>

I need to hear you say it, Arthur

My king, my queen

Did you order Linderman to kill Nathan?

I don't know Daniel, sometimes I worry you're outliving your usefulness

Not my baby

Nathan has to die

Say it Angela

I can heal the scars

I love you Arthur

You have to decide

Do you know what I'm thinking

Do you want to live in blind obedience

Am I gonna kiss you, or am I gonna kill you

Or do you want to know the truth

I'm a monster too

Are you really my mother

Tell me your secrets

I see only my nightmares

I just wanted to feel alive

I gave a love only a mother can give

We were trying to be better than God

I am tired, Noah

She's my mother too, Peter

I have told so many lies

Show them all why you're my favourite

She's the only person who accepted me for what I am

What other secrets are you keeping, Mother?

This is where I belong, in a cage

Oh Gabriel, you don't the half of what you're capable of

Maybe it's not too late to cobble my family back together

You're looking for reassurance, maybe even absolution, but I'm not giving it

Make mommy proud

You pushed me aside

There are other people who want them all dead

They're right to be afraid of us

Yes dear, I've had a bit of experience with all this

I am tired

The things we're going to do

So many lies

Tell me your secrets

I'm a monster too

My family

Absolution

It's a necessary evil

* * *

><p>"Angela. Angela, my dear, wake up now." Angela opened her eyes and stared in wonder at the man standing beside her bed.<p>

Daniel Linderman. Her first, her only true love.

"Daniel, what are you doing here? This isn't possible."

"I'm here to show you what comes next, and to remind you of what's come before. And you should know by now that with us, all things are possible," he responded, pulling aside a heavy, red velvet curtain to reveal a floor to ceiling window.

She looked to where scenes of her life were playing on it. Scenes of them and the others at the Coyote Sands Relocation Center. Her sister. Dr. Suresh. Her parents. Maria, Bobbie, Daniel, and Charles. And later. Meeting Arthur and Samson. Scenes of Arthur taking her memories. Years of lies. So many things stolen. So many other, precious things thrown away.

The pictures finally stopped on the night of their escape from Coyote Sands.

"What do we do in this dream?" A young Charles Deveaux was asking as they sat around the table at that diner.

"Whatever we have to," the younger Angela said, filled with the determination only the young have. Before time showed them just how bad things can be.

"They're right to be afraid of us," Angela watched herself continue. "The things we can do. The things we're going to do to keep this secret safe."

"It's a necessary evil," she whispered along with the girl she had once been.

"Oh Angela, why do you torture yourself like this? It's not as if you set out to be a villain. Everything you - we - did was for self preservation. To protect your family, to protect all of us. And you certainly had your share of harm done to you, over the years." Linderman made a motion with the curtain.

The window began showing more scenes of her and Arthur. Of all the lies he made her believe, and the terrible things he had made her forget. Of her and Daniel. Maria and Samson... and Gabriel.

"Stop this, Daniel. You can show me how many ways Arthur wronged me but it won't do any good. It will never justify my actions. It doesn't change the fact that I became a monster. Arthur made me forget many things, but he didn't make me into what I've become. He didn't set me on this path. I did that all by myself. Me and my... dreams."

"Angie, my dear," Daniel sighed and laid his hand gently upon her cheek. "That is why I'm here to show you a new path. Show you that monsters can change. Even monsters can be forgiven." He kissed her tenderly on the lips, his white beard soft against her face.

He broke the kiss just as gently and stepped back to the curtain to reveal another new scene.

Peter, her sweet Peter stood side by side with Sylar (Gabriel?) and another, younger man. More scenes played of them fighting off the military together. Rescuing people. Of others with abilities gathering with them, fighting with them, cheering them. Cheering them as they kissed.

"That's enough, Daniel."

"My apologies," the older man said, bowing his head and closing the curtain on Peter and Sylar kissing in the rain.

"What are you doing here? You can't be here," Angela cried in frustration.

"Ah my love, don't you remember? Everything we touch we are always touching. When I healed you, I left with you the best part of myself. I will always be with you."

He moved closer and took her face in his hands. "But that doesn't mean that you shouldn't go on living your life," he finished quietly.

"I don't understand."

Daniel smiled softly and kissed her again. It started slow and gentle like before, but soon turned passionate. One of Daniel's hands came up to grip her hair, causing her to moan.

Angela woke abruptly to the quiet dark of her bedroom. She sat up and looked around, her expression saddening as she realized that she was alone and truly awake this time.

Her fingertips grazed her lips as her large, brown eyes roamed around her immaculately furnished bedroom. Taking in all the beautiful, priceless things. Her silk sheeted bed. Empty save for her. Her Renoir. Pictures of her beautiful boys on her nightstand...

And she started to cry.

* * *

><p>A little while later her cell phone beeped, announcing a text message. Her dream played in her mind as she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the phone where it lay before the picture of Peter and Nathan.<p>

"Danko has exposed Nathan's power. Help is coming. Rebel," the message read.

She shut the phone and tightened her fist around it. She could feel the walls of her carefully constructed world crumbling around her. For so long, and with so many sacrifices she had built an army of men to protect her. And now, one by one, they were falling.

* * *

><p>Angela and Noah, New York City<p>

"I'm resourceful. I can find ways to survive that don't involve _Rebel_." Angela told Noah. They were seated in the backseat of her limousine on a rainy morning.

"I'm going to leave the city tonight before anything unfortunate happens," she continued, "you've got fifteen minutes to catch the next rail to D.C. Take my umbrella, and Noah - be prepared. Peter... Peter may be trying to find a different solution to this. I wouldn't want you two to get in each other's way again. Don't say I never did anything for you."

"Thanks for the warning. I wouldn't go home if I were you. Don't say I never did anything for you," Noah replied before exiting the car.

* * *

><p>Three hours later, Peter, Sylar, and Luke stood on top of a building as Danko's agents followed Angela on the street below.<p>

"They're closing in on her," Peter told Sylar, watching as she entered a building down the block, followed by several of Homeland Security's finest.

"She's in the elevator," Sylar responded, opening his eyes. "This is it." He turned to Peter and Luke.

"Change of plans," Peter said. "I want you to go get her. I'll go with Luke instead."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, please." He put his hand on the taller man's chest.

"All right. But she's not gonna come with me."

"Yes, she will. She's not stupid."

Sylar nodded in agreement. "I'll meet you at the rendezvous." He turned and leapt across to the building Angela was cornered in.

Peter watched as Sylar gracefully arched against the cloudy grey sky. His long black coat billowed around him as he landed easily on the other rooftop and strode confidently out of sight. Peter turned to Luke and they exchanged looks of grudging admiration at the display before leaving.

Angela closed her eyes as the lift car shuddered to a halt. She tried the button but the doors wouldn't open, and the car began to descend. After all this time, she was ashamed to be so afraid.

She knew what was going on now in the new and improved Building 26. She would be strapped down, drugged. Who knew for how long. They might never let her wake up.

She tried to calm her increasingly panicked breaths.

_This is your punishment_, she thought to herself. _Your just reward. You were a party in the development of this drug. This control. And you let Bob Bishop use him to get it. Maybe if you had been honest with all of them, none of this would have ever happened._

She could feel the walls of the elevator, like the sins of her past, closing in on her.

Hearing a noise she looked up as the door on the lift's roof opened and Sylar (Gabriel?) dropped down in front of her. She pressed her hands into the wall at her back.

Sylar held his hands down in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. "I'm here with Peter. I'll take you to him." He raised a hand slowly and held it out to her.

Angela looked at him, thinking back to her dream and the men chasing her. _(Even monsters can change.)_ The car stopped with a jolt. _(Are you really my mother?)_ Her expression hardened as she made up her mind and pushed off the wall. _Oh Mari, I promise I'll make this right_, she thought as she stepped forward to take the outstretched hand.

Sylar leaned down and put his other arm around her waist just as the doors opened. They both turned to give the soldiers similar smirks of superiority before ascending through the elevator shaft.

"Put your head down," Sylar said, covering her head with his hand as they burst through the ceiling and then the building's roof beyond.

Angela raised her head after a minute to look at the man holding her. His face was a mask of concentration as they moved between the skyscrapers. He turned to meet her gaze with a questioning one. She returned his look with a sad shake of her head before laying it back down onto his shoulder. She held on tight as they soared through the overcast sky.

They landed a little while later inside Castle Clinton, which Peter and Sylar had known would be closed. Battery Park was always deserted when it rained.

"Mom?" Angela turned to see Peter and the younger man from her dream.

Mother and son embraced.

"I see you've made some new friends," Angela said as she pulled back to run her hand across her son's forehead and into his hair.

Peter smirked and turned to Luke. "I told you she'd start in before she remembered to say thank you," he said.

"You're right. I'm sorry. Thank you." She looked over at Sylar who was slouched against the inner wall with the boy. "Thanks to you both." Her rescuer just shrugged in return.

"So," Peter said, leaving the embrace. "Everybody lost their free passes, huh?"

"Danko pushed Nathan out a window, Peter. What would you have him do, fall to his death to protect me and Claire?"

"Like that would ever happen," he scoffed.

Angela turned to Sylar. "And you Gabriel, I'm sure you have a few stones you'd like to cast my way."

"A few," he agreed. But instead of naming them, he simply continued staring at her.

"So you're the one who pretended to be Sylar's mom?" Luke unexpectedly asked.

Everyone turned disbelieving, and in Sylar's case amused, eyes to the teen.

"What? Is it a secret or something?" Luke asked.

Three pairs of eyes swung back to the woman who was already lost in her memories.

_(Are you really my mother?)_

_(Promise me, Angie. If anything happens to me, you'll take of him.)_

_(I'm a monster too.)_

_(I promise, Mari. I wouldn't let anything happen to little Gabriel.)_

"...even said I was her favourite," Sylar was saying as she tuned back in.

"You didn't?" Peter exclaimed, turning to his mother. "He's not even your son and you told him that?"

Angela knew she deserved the disgust in his voice.

"Let me guess, she's told you that too?" Sylar asked. "Of course she has. Just like she told that to Nathan whenever she needed his compliance. Buck up toots, I'm pretty sure all parents say that to all their children at one time or another. Right, _Angela_?" Sylar's gaze challenged hers, which dropped after a moment.

"All parents are manipulators by definition, Peter," he finished grimly.

"Amen to that," Luke said.

Sylar nodded his head in Luke's direction as if to say "from the mouths of babes".

"I'm gonna take a walk. Don't wander off." And with that, Sylar leapt over the wall and out of sight.

Peter watched him leave and sighed. Gabriel was obviously more upset by his mother's deception than Peter had realized. Remembering Gabriel's almost desperate reaction to the blow job from the night before, and considering how open to physical affection he seemed when they were awake... that heart breaking speech he gave their first night together... the way he seemed as driven now to rescue people as he had once been to hunt them down himself...

Peter was rapidly coming to the conclusion that his partner was a man far more troubled, lonely, and complicated than he had originally thought. And that was saying something. He had read the man's file after all.

Peter turned to Luke. "Stay here and protect her in case they find us. We'll be back in a little while." He followed Sylar over the wall.

Angela and Luke exchanged glances.

"I'm Luke by the way," the boy said, holding out his hand.

Angela returned his gesture with a look of mistrust and put her hands in her jacket's pockets.

Luke rolled his eyes and resumed holding up the wall.

* * *

><p>Peter found Sylar beyond a flower garden, sitting on a bench facing out to the harbor. His eyes were closed, and his hands were on his knees. It almost looked like he was meditating.<p>

Peter sat down next to him, allowing only a few inches to separate them. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. This was the first time they had had a chance to be alone all day.

Putting thoughts of mothers from his mind, Sylar focused on the young man seated next to him. He still wasn't sure whether Peter remembered the dream from the night before, but at this point, he didn't care one way or another. Luke was right. There was more going on here than loneliness. The previous day's training had proven that. At least he hoped it did, because he could not resist Peter Petrelli anymore. Not after last night.

"Thanks, for not killing my mom."

"The night's not over yet, Peter."

Peter huffed out a small laugh, and grinned crookedly at the erstwhile killer. He bumped up against him affectionately.

"Oh admit it. You like her. You respect anyone who can pull one over on you. Even though you absolutely hate it when someone does."

"You think you know me so well don't you?" He opened one eye to look at the empath.

"I'm getting a handle on it."

"Oh really?" He opened his eyes wide in amusement. "Funny, I haven't noticed you handling anything," he said, leaning back and opening his legs suggestively.

Peter blushed, turning to look out at the lights of the ships in the harbor.

_Asshole_, he thought.

Sylar narrowed his eyes, deciding.

"You're right. I do like her."

"Who?"

"Angela. Your mother?" he replied, sitting back up.

"Oh, right. Yeah, she has her moments. For the record though, lying to you like that was fucked up."

"Thank you."

Peter nodded.

"She's still better than Arthur."

"No argument here. Hey, did I ever thank you for saving me from him and Mohinder?"

"I don't think you got the chance. Mohinder was kinda busy smashing my head into the floor."

Peter curled his lip in disgust. "Oh yeah. Well, thanks anyway. I guess I owe you my life at least a three times over. And my mom's," he said, thinking back to Level Five, the feel of his mind slicing into her skin. He reached over to put his hand on Gabriel's.

"Seriously." Their eyes met. "Thank you, Gabriel."

"You're welcome, Peter," was the equally serious reply.

Sylar's tongue licked out to moisten dry lips. His eyes dropped, first to Peter's mouth, then to their hands. He turned his over, rubbing his palm and fingers slowly against Peter's. Breath quickening, blinking compulsively, he looked back up to meet the younger man's impossibly wide eyes. He leapt.

"Peter, did you know that when a person touches me I can sense their emotions? Particularly how they feel about me?" Peter's hand dropped away as did his smile.

_Oh my god._

"And did you also know that when you used Parkman's power on me that allowed me to copy it?"

_Holy shit._

"You've... you've been hearing my thoughts? This whole time?"

Sylar smiled wryly. "Yep," letting his lips pop on the 'P'.

"You... you!" Peter scowled, eyes bulging as he thought furiously.

"Peter, Peter. Such language from such a sweet, young hero. Does your mother know you think like that?"

"Fuck you. Are you telling me that you've known what I've been feeling and thinking about you ever since you rescued me?"

Sylar nodded.

_'And... that dream last night?'_

Sylar smiled wickedly. His eyebrows raised in glee. He nodded again silently, enjoying Peter's mental chaos.

_And he hasn't... 'you haven't... '_ "Okaay..." _Wow, this is... pretty fucking embarrassing._ "So why haven't you said or done anything about it then?"_ 'At least tell me I'm barking_ _up the wrong tree.'_ "You know humiliation doesn't really go with this whole partnery vibe thing we're supposed to be having," Peter complained. He didn't realize that he was switching back and forth between speech and telepathy.

The older man shook his head fondly at the emotional display before finally speaking up again.

"One, I am not a tree. And second, there is nothing wrong with our partnery vibe." Sylar leaned in closer until he could breathe in the scent of the nervous man beside him. The man that he could not stop wanting.

"But third, people's actions rarely follow their true desires, Peter." His dark gaze trapped Peter's, and his voice lowered, deepened, causing the other man's heart to speed up.

"I've known what you've been thinking about recently, and I've known... feelings you've had about me for even longer. But that doesn't tell me what you are willing to do. It doesn't tell me if you are willing to act on them. And it also doesn't tell me your motivations. If you really want me... or if you're just scared and lonely and making do."

"Oh. _Oh._ So you... do..." Peter's question was a whisper as he found himself short of breath.

Moving even closer, Sylar nodded, smiling predatorily.

Peter watched as his partner's eyes roamed across his face settling on his mouth. His own eyes widened. He swallowed. His blood pounded in his ears, deafening him.

God, he's gonna kiss me. Peter didn't know if he was asking for help or permission.

Sylar nodded again, showing teeth. His breath came out like a soft growl.

'You bet your sweet ass I am,' Peter heard in his mind just before hands snapped out to grab his face. For an instant Peter was reminded of a future that would never be, before giving himself over to the present.

Sylar's mouth hesitated a second before contact and then, finally, his lips molded onto Peter's. Perfect. They inhaled. Their lips gently pulsed together once, twice. Exhale. A third time. Inhale. Before separating. Exhale.

"Well, okay then," Peter mumbled before resuming the kiss, opening his mouth to let in Gabriel's tongue. It probed deep and lush into the younger man's mouth, stealing all his breaths.

God, he's good at this, Peter thought, getting déjà vu.

Sylar broke the kiss abruptly, leaning back and frowning.

"I would remember this if we had done it before," he said without conviction.

"After everything we've seen, are you sure about that?"

Sylar's hands stroked Peter's neck as he considered the question. He watched as his thumb caressed the lightly stubbled cheek, captivated by the unfamiliar sensation.

"Honestly, there's not much I am sure of these days," he said thoughtfully. "Except that I really want to kiss you again." His confession was rewarded with a smile.

"Sounds good to me," Peter said.

As his arms came around Gabriel and the embrace deepened, the heavens opened and rain came down in heavy, vertical sheets. He could only clutch at the larger man's back as his senses were overwhelmed. Gabriel held his head like a precious thing. His tongue, dove in over and over again, as hard and wet and relentless as the rain pouring down on them.

Peter had never been so consumed by a kiss. The world narrowed to only them. Their lips. The rain. And click. Peter knew this was one of those moments he hadn't realized he had been waiting for. A moment of destiny.

When the kiss slowed, both men were breathless. They barely separated, panting quietly together. Their noses and lips were still touching, their eyes still closed.

As they calmed down, they pulled apart slowly. Sylar's hands lowered to Peter's shoulders. A moment of awkwardness, and their eyes met. Fear and hope were shyly exchanged. Reassured by what each saw, they shared a small laugh like sigh of relief and happiness.

Together, the new lovers turned their faces up against the downpour, feeling like years of pain and fear were being washed away in moments. Catching each other's gaze again, they smiled and thought in unison,_ 'I love the rain'_ .


	2. Chapter 2

Sylar, Peter, Luke, and Angela, Upstate New York

It was late when they returned to the motel. Flying back to the car had been an adventure in and of itself. And the car ride... Angela and Luke did not seem to be hitting it off, no matter how big the back seat was.

Sylar came back from the front desk to meet the others. He found them parked near the room he, Peter, and Luke had stayed in the night before.

"This one's yours," he told Angela, handing her the key card to a nearby room. "Luke, you take our room for tonight. Peter and I will take the other new one. Angela," he ushered her two doors down before she could enter her room. "This is the main room, Luke's room for now. It has the kitchenette and all our food and stuff. Clean clothes too," he added, looking her over more closely.

She frowned and opened her mouth to speak but he went on.

"We'll meet up here tomorrow morning. And Luke, keep an eye on the laptop, and the phone, understand?"

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"You kids play nice now." Without further adieu, Sylar took Peter by the elbow and walked away.

Luke smiled at Angela, feeling pleased with the responsibility Sylar had given him.

_Me, not her, ha._

And he had the food. Of course, it looked like Sylar was about to eat something way better.

_Lucky bastard._

Not that the mom was bad looking, he realized, eyeing her wet, tight, black outfit. Peter obviously took after her. They had the same gorgeous eyes and hair. The same slim body.

"Hungry?" he asked opening the door to his room.

* * *

><p>"I cannot believe you just did that," Peter said, following Gabriel to their new room. "What is Ma supposed to think?"<p>

"Whatever she likes. Our relationship is about to change, Peter, and the sooner she gets used to it the better. We're all adults here, more or less. There's no reason to be sneaking around."

"Easy for you to say. You don't have to answer to her," Peter said as Gabriel held the door open for him.

_'Well, here we are. Alone at last,'_ Peter thought after hearing the door close. He dropped his jacket to the floor and turned to see Gabriel standing silently by the door, eyeing him. It was a look that could be taken as either menacing or arousing. Or in this case, both.

As Peter opened his mouth to speak, Sylar waved the first two fingers of his left hand, throwing Peter into the wall with his arms pressed out at ninety degree angles, feet about a foot off the floor.

Sylar came forward, putting his right hand on Peter's face. The captive man's head was turned this way and that, identical to that night in Mohinder's apartment.

And just like that night, both men were rock hard.

"I see how you work now, Peter Petrelli. And you are a very _kinky_ young man. I couldn't believe it the first time I touched you like this, and you _liked_ it." Sylar leaned forward to whisper the last two words.

"So I've got a bad boy kink. It's not that unusual."

Sylar raised an eyebrow. "Oh, is that all it is?" he asked. With a knowing look, he slowly moved his hand down to other man's throat, squeezing.

Peter closed his eyes. "Fuck, that's cheating."

"How is this cheating? I'm just using my abilities. Like you said."

He leaned in to whisper into Peter's ear, voice husky and low, grating. "Pushing your buttons, offering you your darkest desires. Isn't that what a good lover is supposed to do? Please his partner? Make sure they fit together all nice and snug?"

He rubbed his hardness against Peter's, loosening and tightening his hold on his throat.

Peter whined. He felt like his dick was literally on fire.

"And believe me, Peter. We are going to fit together very nicely."

With his unoccupied hand Sylar pulled aside Peter's shirt. He had to taste some of that soft white skin. The killer mouthed along the exposed collar bone. _Clavicle_. He hummed as he licked up to the hollow above.

_Oh my god, I can't take this,_ Peter thought.._ I might be hyperventilating_ "Jesus Christ! We haven't even got our clothes off yet, you know everything about me, and I'm already about two seconds away from coming in my pants."

"A whole two?" The other man murmured. _'I must not be trying hard enough.'_

Sylar's thoughts, booming, filled Peter's mind, reverberating through his body, notching the helpless man's arousal even higher. He was nothing but his own pulse and that god-like voice, throbbing inside him.

Maintaining his hold on the trembling young man's body and throat telekinetically, Sylar reached down to grab Peter's _fucking_ _amazing_ ass in both hands, grinding into him harder and biting down into the skin beneath his lips, teeth gnawing ruthlessly.

"Fuck... oh fucking... shit, Sylar!" Peter couldn't hold back, trapped between the wall and the equally hard body in front of him. The choking, the sensation of being held down, and up at the same time, that Voice, and now biting too? His orgasm was almost painful in its intensity as he shot into his jeans.

"Mmmmmm." Sylar hummed in pleasure, dotting brief kisses over Peter's sweaty face and neck. Over the already forming bruise. He pulled back a bit, running his hands over the spent man's chest and shoulders soothingly. "You are sooo sexy. I can't wait to unwrap you. It's like my birthday." Kiss. "And Christmas." Kiss. "And Yule, all rolled up together." Kiss. Kiss.

"God, you're insane. I mean it. Completely certifiable," Peter managed between gasps. He felt liked he had been mauled by a wild puma.

"Yep. And I'm all." Kiss. "Yours." Kiss. "For now anyway." Kiss. "Scared?" Sylar's face stopped directly in front of Peter's, his gaze piercing.

"Terrified." Peter assured him.

"It's lucky for you I don't want you to fear me anymore... then... isn't it?" His voice trailed off uncertainly.

"Did you just get deja vu again?"

Sylar nodded, his expression puzzled, and maybe a little bit worried.

"Do you think we should be worried?" he asked, hearing Peter's observation.

"Honestly, I don't think I have the energy right now."

"Ahhh, do you need a nap before round two, hero?" Sylar asked, steadying Peter on the floor as he let his TK hold go.

"Ass. Hole."

"Yours or mine?" Sylar smirked.

"Arrgh!" Red light flashed as Peter quickly took a power.

"Hey! Aren't you supposed to ask... humph!" Sylar's words trailed off as he found himself flying across the room, landing on the bed.

Peter approached, removing all their damp clothing with his hands and mind.

"You, shut it. The time for talking is over. It's my turn now to find out what makes you tick, Mr. Smart Mouth. And since I'm going to have to do it the old fashioned way, this might take a while." He climbed onto the bed.

The Cheshire Cat grin was back as Sylar looked up, a challenge in his eyes.

"Give it your best shot, Petrelli."

"Oh, I'm gonna give you something, killer. You've been driving me crazy for days. It's way past time for me to return the favor." He grabbed the insane man's hard cock and began stroking.

"I would _love_... to see you try."

Peter stopped Sylar's taunting with his tongue.

* * *

><p>The next morning Peter woke up feeling trapped until he realized that it was an arm and a leg holding him down. Gabriel's.<p>

_Did he think I was gonna get away?_

Now that he knew what it was, Peter decided he liked the sensation. He closed his eyes again and settled back against his... whatever to re-live the night before. It certainly hadn't gone how he had expected.

He had begun his turn at the wheel by sucking Gabriel's cock. It was beautiful really. Generous in proportion, mottled brown in color. Italian. It had large veins that others might think were unsightly, but to him they just screamed virile man.

He ran his tongue up and down either side of the large artery along the underside, then around the crown and back down again, rolling the balls gently in his hand, tugging on them occasionally. He had lubed up a finger (no one had commented on the fact that they had _both_ apparently snuck down that aisle at Walmart), and was running it around the outside of Gabriel's entrance.

~~~~~[The night before] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter leaned forward to gag himself on the beautiful specimen, before pulling off to lick the head teasingly. God, he loved sucking cock. He heard a stifled laugh from somewhere above him.

"Glad I could oblige... ah... another fetish of yours, oh kinky one." Sylar's sarcasm was ruined by a load moan as Peter's mouth slowly enveloped him again. He gripped the sheets tighter, trying to be patient with Peter's snail-like pace.

_'Liking to suck cock isn't a kink.' _

_'The way you do it, it is.'_

Peter pulled his mouth away and leaned back a bit to look at Gabriel's face.

"What? Why'd you stop?"

"I want telepathy. I'm on top. I want to know what you're really thinking, not just what you project to me." Peter's voice was low and earnest.

"What happened to doing this the old fashioned way?"

"Changed my mind."

They stared at one another for a moment. Peter knew Gabriel wanted to keep his advantage, wanted to be able to hide, even now. But he was determined.

Finally, Sylar looked away, smiling slightly.

"Alright Peter, but not telepathy. I have something I think you're gonna like a lot more. A power that will tell you... what you _really_ want to know."

He extended his hand. Peter looked at him curiously, but Sylar only raised one eyebrow, smile widening.

_'Don't you trust me?'_

Peter narrowed his gaze and smiled back, wise to his game.

_'No games, trust me.'_

Peter took his hand and watched as the familiar red glow began to seep from their interlaced fingers, crawling up his arm. His breath caught as Gabriel's emotions began trickling in. Pleasure first. God not just pleasure, unbelievable frustration. The desire to come, right now.

He couldn't believe how much his lover had been holding back. Peter was already driving him crazy, barely even trying.

But underneath all that lust was something else, something Gabriel was trying very hard to hide... nervousness, fear even.

His cocky, homicidal, know it all partner had never been with a man before. And was more than a little scared.

_Jesus. Fucking. Christ._ Peter thought, shivering. He opened his eyes to find Gabriel's filled with apprehension.

"Come here," Peter said in a rough voice. He leaned forward and slammed his mouth down onto Gabriel's, thrusting his tongue deep. Gabriel's hands came up to cradle his face.

Peter broke away suddenly to fix him with an intense glare. His hand found Gabriel's erection once more and he watched, possessively, as the other man's eyes closed in pleasure. He smiled and gave him one more, softer, kiss before going back down to take his beautiful cock in his mouth, pushing his finger into the virginal entrance slowly.

_'Let it go baby. I know you want to.' _

And just like that, Peter finally got to finish what he had started in a dream. He swallowed everything Gabriel had to offer, as the man moaned and gripped his hair.

"Keep... going," Sylar gasped as he came down from his high.

"Are you sure?"

"Do it. Fuck me. Please Peter. I want to know. I... I ha... have to know," he stuttered.

Gabriel's voice was so breathy, it didn't even sound like him, and it was turning Peter on more than he would have imagined.

"Okay, no argument here," he said as he resumed stroking Gabriel with his finger. He grabbed the lube and started using two fingers, watching his lover's face closely.

_God, he is so tight._

Peter had to let his fingers rest inside the tight muscle for a minute before he could even think about moving them again.

"Oh Jesus, that's..." Sylar trailed off, his voice filled with wonder.

"What? Tell me," Peter said, leaning forward to lick along Gabriel's stomach, fingers still working gently to open this beautiful man.

"It's stupid."

"Tell me," he insisted, biting down on a nipple.

"Oh god. It's just so... so _intimate_," he finished on a whisper.

Peter raised his head. "Well, yeah. It's sex."

"Sex isn't always intimate, Peter. I know that much."

"You're right. It's not. But this is better, yeah?" Peter's voice was serious but his smile was anything but.

"Yeah," Sylar said with a naughty smile of his own. He started moving his hips on Peter's fingers that went just a bit deeper until...

"Oh! Oh... p-p-prostate," Sylar stuttered on a sigh.

_'God, I could do this all night.'_ Peter was entranced by the picture Gabriel made, head thrown back, body moving on his fingers.

_'Don't even think about it,'_ Sylar thought back. "Fuck me already."

"Not yet," Peter said, getting more lube and working to get a third finger into his partner.

"Jesus, Peter. Are you trying to kill me?"

"No, I'm just trying to make this good for you."

"You already have. Fuck me."

"Not yet. I'm savoring you."

"You're...? You're serious. Why the hell can't you show this kind of patience all the time? Oooh." He groaned as three fingers were now seriously working inside him.

"Who knows when we'll get the chance to be together like this again? I want to make the most of it," Peter whispered, watching Gabriel writhe on the bed for him.

"Uuhh, Peter, please. I promise I'm ready. Let's go. Please!"

"Alright, alright. Here, turn around. No, on your side. Trust me, killer. I know what I'm doing." He maneuvered Sylar's top leg over a pillow and raised up on one arm behind him.

"I'll just bet you do, pretty boy."

"Don't provoke the driver," Peter said, smacking the hip in front of him. Biting his lip, he positioned himself at Gabriel's entrance. "Try to push out as I push in."

_'This is the hardest part,'_ Peter added mentally as he forced himself through the tight outer ring of muscle and all the way into Gabriel's body. _Jesus_. He'd spent forever stretching him yet he still felt impossibly tight.

"Oh fuck, Peter."

Peter reached around and began stroking Gabriel's cock.

"Talk to me. How are we doing?"

"It feels... weird."

Peter breathed out a soft laugh. "Yeah, I know. It gets better."

"Shouldn't you be moving?"

"Give me a second."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm deflowering a 35 year old virgin here, killer. Your ass is like a vise grip on my dick."

Sylar began laughing.

"Oh god, don't..." Peter started, but it was too late. The contractions from Sylar's mirth spurned him into motion.

"Fuck," he said, holding onto Gabriel's hip and pulling out slowly, then thrusting back in. He started a rhythm, trying to keep it gentle.

"Oh my god," Sylar said as he began to tremble.

"Yeah. That's it baby. It's time for me to show you how to fly," Peter said in a low voice into his ear, licking the back of Gabriel's neck and pumping steadily. He tried a few different angles before finding Gabriel's prostate.

"Oh _fuck_, Peter..." He started to shake in earnest.

"Easy. Let it build." Keeping his movements slow and easy, Peter moved to take Gabriel in hand again.

"Peter, oh." Sylar clutched the pillow as they moved together. "God. **Peter**." His shaking was very pronounced now. "I, I can't..."

"It's okay, baby. Oh, I'm gonna make you come," Peter promised, increasing the pace and force of his thrusts into his lover's body.

Sylar moaned long and loud as all the furniture in the room, including the bed, rose into the air.

"Yeah, baby. Let me see it." He stroked Gabriel's cock faster, pinching just beneath the head, and swirling his thumb around the tip.

"Fuck. Oh, oh **fuck**!" Sylar's muscles seized up, his grip on Peter's dick becoming painful. Goose bumps broke out all over his body as a rush went through him and the floating chairs slowly started rotating in place.

"Peter..." he whined.

"Gabriel, baby, let it go," Peter whispered in his ear.

"Oh, oh...fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" Sylar spasmed, body jerking, muscles loosening and contracting, dick pulsing in Peter's grip. Across the room, the television exploded and all the other pieces of furniture fell to the floor.

"Oh yeah, baby. That's it. So fucking gorgeous," Peter breathed, drinking in his lover's expression. He was never going to forget this moment, ever. His hand slowed as Gabriel's body relaxed.

Peter pushed him forward more and thrust into his lax body a few more times, biting into his shoulder and moaning, as he released his essence in bursts.

Peter laughed softly as his orgasm wound down, still kissing and nibbling on Gabriel's shoulder. It had been way too long since he'd been with someone. This felt so good, he couldn't stop his hips from grinding against Gabriel's in short, tired motions.

Gabriel had been quiet for several minutes. His eyes were closed, but Peter could tell he wasn't asleep.

_'Are you alive down there, babe?'_

_'Yeah,'_ came the unspoken reply. _'Just...'_ there was an audible sigh, _'focusing on the moment. I don't want to forget a single detail.'_

_'Hmmm, me neither.' _

Peter settled against the warm body underneath him and closed his eyes too. They laid there for long moments, random memories, thoughts, and feelings skipping between them, bringing them closer in understanding than words ever could.

* * *

><p>"Is it always like that?" Sylar asked as they lay facing each other a little while later.<p>

"That intense you mean? The shaking?" The men were holding hands loosely, legs and feet moving together under the covers.

"Yeah."

"For a while, until your body gets used to it." Peter leaned over and began kissing the fingertips of one of Gabriel's hands.

"So it won't be like that for you when I fuck you?" Sylar aimed at guilelessness.

"What are you implying?" Peter bit down on one finger.

Sylar smiled.

_'Dick.'_ Peter sucked the finger into his mouth. _'It's already been that intense and you didn't even take my clothes off.'_

Sylar hugged him closer with his free arm. "You are incredible. You make me feel... incredible," he sighed, his hand moving down to grip Peter's ass. "I can't wait to fuck you."

"Can you wait until we get some sleep?" Peter asked, letting Gabriel's middle finger slip from his lips.

"I suppose." Sylar pushed two fingers back into Peter's mouth. "And Peter, don't call me baby."

"Hmmm?"

"You called me 'baby' while we were having sex. Don't do that anymore."

Peter laughed and pushed his hand away. "Are you serious? What if I can't help it? I tend to be talkative, you know. You wouldn't want me to be inhibited during sex now would you?" Peter asked playfully.

Sylar flipped them over until he was on top. He held Peter's hands above their heads and leaned down into his face. "Are you trying to manipulate me?" he asked in a threatening voice.

Peter appeared completely unconcerned. "Sylar, what bothers you most? That I called you 'baby' when I fucked you, or that you liked it when I did?"

Sylar frowned and released him. He rolled over onto his back and looked at the ceiling. "Fine, but only when we are in bed together," he grumbled.

"I wouldn't dream otherwise," Peter assured, moving to lay against him.

~~~~~[In the present] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter opened his eyes as he felt Gabriel stir behind him, his hand starting to rub up and down Peter's chest and stomach.

"You're thinking about last night, aren't you?" Sylar asked, sliding his hand down Peter's leg and nuzzling into the back of his hair. "Which part?"

"Talking about you fucking me," Peter fudged.

"Mmm, how does now sound?" His hand traveled up Peter's inner thigh.

"Seriously, you're insatiable. And, I'm actually kinda hungry."

Sylar stopped his sexy petting and got out of the bed. He had anticipated this and snuck over to Luke's in the middle of the night.

"Here you go," he said, throwing a juice box and breakfast bar at Peter.

"What the... how did you...?"

At Sylar's smug grin, Peter sighed in quiescence and ripped open the packaging.

"I would ask if you pulled these out of your ass, but I'm pretty sure I would've noticed them last night," he grumbled, taking a bite of the Luna bar.

Sylar just laughed, sat back down on the bed, and bit into his own breakfast. As he ate, he focused in on Luke and Angela, opening what he hoped was a three way telepathic link. Or, he was about to give the whole motel the most intimate wakeup call these people would ever have.

_'Luke, Angela, can you hear me?'_

_'What the fuck?'_

_'Gabriel?'_

_'Yep. Listen, we're staying in today. You guys amuse yourselves for a few hours. Peter and I need some alone time to strategize our next move. Angela, go have breakfast. Luke, be nice, put some clothes on before she gets there.' _

Sylar waited patiently for Peter to finish obscenely sucking on his apple juice, before telekinetically throwing all the debris away and pouncing.

"Now where was I?" Sylar asked, pushing Peter onto his back. He opened Peter's legs and knelt between them. He had to bite his lip to keep from moaning at the picture Peter made. Soft white skin. Sculpted muscles. Slim waist. Curvy legs. And his dick? Smooth, sleek, and perfect like the rest of him. And already completely hard.

"Oh yes," he whispered, finding Peter's hands with his own and pushing them up the bed and over their heads. "Right here." He leaned forward and kissed the other man deeply, rubbing them together from chest to cock.

"I've wanted you for so long now. Did you know that?" Sylar asked breathlessly.

"Even when you thought we were brothers?" Peter ground up against him.

"Holy Christ, Peter. You're not only kinky, you're a pervert."

"Well, you're about to fuck this pervert, so what does that make you?"

"Compulsive," Sylar answered, licking down his neck.

"Sure that's not obsessive, psycho killer?"

Sylar groaned as Peter's tongue began playing in his ear. "I have to have you now, Peter, okay?" he asked urgently, eyes wide and intense. His hands gripped Peter's tightly as he, yes, _waited_ for the response.

"Okay," Peter replied softly, kissing his sweet, completely insane lover.

Gabriel returned the kiss passionately before sitting up. Peter watched with a grin as the lube floated by his face and into Gabriel's waiting hand. And he didn't stop grinning as his partner manhandled him until he had a pillow under his ass and two of Gabriel's fingers inside it.

"Easy! I know I said I've done this before, but it _has_ been awhile."

"Sorry. _Sorry_."

"No, it's okay. It's okay. Jesus, don't slow down now. Come on, give it to me, Sylar." Peter raised his knees shamelessly.

"Like this?" Sylar asked, gripping the back Peter's hair and driving in hard.

"Christ, yes." Peter sighed as he was forced open. He loved being barely prepared, and Sylar's cock was just perfect for this kind of play.

Peter locked eyes with Sylar, gripped him with his knees, and latched onto his arms. "Give me more," he demanded.

* * *

><p>"I love how you're a fast learner," Peter moaned, his face squished into the mattress. They had each climaxed only moments before, Sylar riding him hard from behind. His smaller body was still surrounded and held down by Sylar's larger one.<p>

"It's easy when you have a good teacher," Sylar responded, kissing and biting his way down the back of Peter's neck.

Peter squirmed a little.

"Gabriel, are you...?"

"Hmmmm."

"So soon?"

"Mmm hmmmm. Have you forgotten all the side effects of Claire's power?"

"One, never ever mention Claire when we're in bed together," Peter said, turning his head to the side and peeking over his shoulder. "Second, no refractory period necessary."

"You got it, and since practice makes perfect..." Sylar moved Peter onto his side, raising one of Peter's legs over his own left shoulder. He sighed in pleasure as he re-entered the soft tight opening.

"You just have to be the best at everything don't you?" Peter asked, not minding in the least as Sylar started moving inside him again in long, slow strokes.

* * *

><p>"I love. Fucking you," Sylar declared after they'd each had a second orgasm.<p>

Peter just continued to breathe hard and gripped Gabriel's sweaty hair as his nipple was licked.

_'I think you should bite it,'_ he whispered into Sylar's mind. He moaned as his tormentor drug his stubble across his chest and rubbed it against the other nipple instead.

"Bite it," Peter demanded, moving his hips to stimulate his prostate against Gabriel's cock.

"I love feeling you squirm on my dick. Yeah, just like that..." Sylar threw his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of Peter snug around him, squeezing him.

He opened them again and ran his hands down Peter's body, from his face all the way down to his soft cock, his ass and back up his legs to where they lay relaxed and open, over his own.

"Look at you," he said. "So _beautiful_."

Peter's breath caught at the unexpected sentiment.

Sylar leaned down to take a nipple in his mouth, biting hard as he began to thrust once more into Peter's plaint body.

"Oh my god. Gabriel!" Peter tried to get a grip on Gabriel's sweat soaked skin.

"I'm gonna fuck you. all. day. long." Sylar promised as he casually pushed Peter's knees back to his shoulders. Peter's flexibility was a very good thing.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Peter lay in bed, sheets wrapped haphazardly around him. He had stopped trying to move around. He had never been this sore. He'd actually put an icy cold cloth on his ass for awhile. And his legs had felt like rubber bands when he'd went to piss and get that cold cloth.<p>

But he'd also never been so content. Never had a lover so in tune with his wants, his desires, his limits. Sexy as hell, eager to please, eager to learn, completely insatiable, oh and don't forget, _psychic_... Sylar was, in short, the perfect lover.

Peter couldn't remember the last time he had felt so relaxed. It was like he'd had the best massage. Or smoked opium. He twisted, and cracked his back all the way down. Goddamn, he felt good...

Peter squinted open his eyes as Gabriel came into the room carrying a pizza and some sodas.

"What'd my mom have to say?"

"It looks like we were right about not having much time for fun. That's it. We are going to be driving day and night to get to some place out in bum fuck Arizona called Coyote Sands." Sylar set the food down on the table. It was a little wobbly. "She had a dream," he responded to Peter's unspoken question.

"It's going to take days to get there."

"I know. Which is why we're leaving in a couple of hours." Sylar removed his jacket and over-shirt and started towards the bed. "You know she wondered why you didn't come with me. I think she thinks you're dead. You might want to at least call her," he said as he sat down facing Peter.

"I don't care what she thinks. And I am way too tired to move. Let alone walk or talk to her. And I don't think she would appreciate it any better if she saw me walk right now." The pleasantly debauched man smiled and chuckled to himself.

"Are you sure you don't want healing?" Sylar asked uncertainly, reaching for him.

"Absolutely. I want to feel exactly like this for as long as I can. And you have my permission to exude smugness all over the room. You've earned it." Peter threw his arms over his head and stretched all the way down to his toes, hips wiggling under the sheet.

"You are the sexiest thing I have ever seen." Sylar stroked his hand down Peter's chest, trying not to get distracted by the sight and feel of his naked body. His skin was so soft. A pink nipple caught his attention.

"You are not at all what I expected," Peter responded seriously, stopping the wandering hand reluctantly.

A long moment passed with them lost in each other's eyes, until Sylar said, quirking an eyebrow, "funny, you're exactly how I thought you'd be."

Peter frowned. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

Sylar continued smiling cheekily for a second before shrugging and shaking his head. "Nothing. I just like fucking with you. Turn over."

Peter blinked at the abrupt subject change. Or maybe not so abrupt...

"Babe, seriously, I don't think..."

"Not for that, you idiot. Honestly, if it wasn't for my healing power I think I'd be chafed. Which is why I want you to turn over so I can see for myself that you're really okay."

Peter rolled his eyes. "_Babe_!"

"Peter..."

"Gabriel..."

"Please?"

"Uuhhggg," Peter groaned as he rolled over, swayed by Gabriel's damn sincerity.

"Peter?"

"Yes?"

"You are very swollen."

"That's normal."

"It looks painful."

"It is, but that's okay."

"Did you bleed?"

"..."

"Peter, your _silence_ is lying to me."

Peter rolled back over and took his over-protective partner's hands in his own. "Gabriel, I'm only gonna say this once. We had rough sex. I bled a little. And that is perfectly normal. And before you say it, I like it rough. I asked for it rough. And you will continue to give it to me rough whenever I ask, understood?"

Sylar looked put out at first, then really thought about what Peter was demanding from him. His expression perked up.

"Well okay, if you insist."

Peter rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, isn't there anything I can do now to make you feel better?" Sylar's head cocked to the side as he caught a stray image from Peter's mind. He narrowed his eyes and grinned.

Peter's expression turned worried. "What? What did I just think?"

Instead of verbally responding, Sylar waved two fingers, flipping Peter back over onto his stomach.

"Gabriel, what..."

"Shhhhhhh."

He spread Peter's cheeks apart and leaned forward to lick at the damage he had caused. Peter's ass was a fucking revelation. He wanted to do nothing, nothing else but lick it, spank it, fuck it, look at it, fucking cover it in honey and powdered sugar and eat it like a sopapilla, anything. Anything as long as it never, ever went away.

"Ooh, that's..." Peter gripped the sheets and spread his legs wider. "Babe, are you sure you want to be doing that?"

_'I don't mind. Your kinkiness must be rubbing off on me.'_

Sylar inserted his tongue into the opening, swirling it around. He pulled back a bit and blew power chilled breath onto the moisture.

"Shit! What the hell did you just do?"

_'You like?'_ he silently taunted, licking some more at Peter's sweet ass.

_'Very much. More please.'_

_'Hmmm, how about this?'_ Sylar inserted a cold finger.

"Oh my god! That's fucking awesome!


	3. Chapter 3

Sylar, Peter, Angela, and Luke, on I-90 outside Erie, Pennsylvania

* * *

><p>"Oh leave it here. I like this song," Peter said as Sylar telekinetically went through the radio channels.<p>

Luke's eyes bugged out. "You have got to kidding me! What are you, a fag?"

"Hey! Don't make me pull this car over," Sylar said to the kid seated behind him. "Do not let me hear you use or think that kind of language again Luke. I mean it."

"What. Ever. This is Britney Spears you know?"

"I like this song too," Angela said to the pouting teen slouched next to her.

"Big surprise. You're a girl. Ow!" She had gotten his ear that time.

"If I have to tell you one more time to respect me..."

"Do you two need to be separated?" Peter asked, smirking.

"Don't get cute young man."

_'Too late,'_ Peter heard in his mind. He and Gabriel shared lazy grins. Peter lifted his arms over head and stretched in his seat, still enjoying that amazing, sex induced lassitude. He felt a breeze of telekinesis curl briefly around his body in response to his display.

Luke's attention remained on Angela, who was giving him an icy glare. Damn. For an older lady, she really is kinda hot.

"Luke!" The driver's eyes pierced the boy's in the rearview mirror.

"What?"

"You know what, you little pervert."

_'Well, I don't know what. Tell me.'_

_'Luke's been thinking of getting a ticket on the Cougar train.'_

"What?" Peter hissed. "Did I understand you correctly?" he whispered, looking back at Luke in horror. He cut his eyes to his mother who was looking at all of them suspiciously.

Sylar just laughed quietly to himself, keeping his eyes on the road and his hands at ten and two. He didn't even try to get the dopey grin off his face.

"Sweet Mary, Mother of God, what next?" Peter moaned, leaning back in his seat again.

For once, everyone in the car was silent, listening to the song. Each one by one, and for different reasons, realizing how appropriate the lyrics were.

"I got my eye on you. And I can't let you get away. Hey baby, whether it's now or later. I got you. You can't shake me. Cause I got you on my radar. And whether you like it or not, it ain't gonna stop. Cause I got you on my radar. Cause I got you on my radar..."

* * *

><p>Rest stop, I-44, Missouri<p>

* * *

><p>Luke opened the door to the men's room and peaked his head inside.<p>

"Guys? Are you done yet? Angela woke up and is wondering what's taking you so long." He heard a groan.

"Yeah, just give us ah... oh... a couple more minutes, okay?" Peter's voice floated out from one of the stalls.

Luke's eyes widened. He crept forward, trying to tell if they were in the same one. "Okay, but..."

_'Luke, go back to the car and keep Angela occupied,'_ Sylar commanded into the boy's mind. He didn't wait to hear the door close, just continued sucking on the head of Peter's dick, stroking the shaft with his hand. He moaned as Peter's hands combed through his hair.

"Oh yeah, baby. You suck me so good..."

Sylar's first time giving head was not going as he had imagined. On his knees in a public toilet, in the middle of nowhere. Hiding out from the other guy's mom, with a pathologically dishonest adolescent as lookout.

_I should feel ridiculous._

But he didn't.

"Oh baby, let me... oh, let me fuck your mouth."

He did feel dirty. He moved his hands to Peter's ass, giving up control.

"Oh yeah, just like that. Oh, just... just a little bit more..."

And really turned on. Like a teenager. A horny, gay teenager. He gripped Peter's ass tighter. Fingers digging into the crease, spreading it wider.

_'Give it to me, Peter.'_

He moaned again, feeling the cock stab at the back of his throat, over and over, gagging him. Peter held onto his head tightly, bucking steadily now, all the while continuing to babble encouragement and status updates.

_Nope, not going as I had imagined at all._

He swallowed Peter's bitter release greedily, feeling more trail down his chin and throat to stain his shirt, and join the filth already on the floor.

It was way, way better.

* * *

><p>Another rest stop, I-40, TexasNew Mexico border

* * *

><p>"What do you mean you can't drive?" Sylar asked dumbfounded.<p>

"I've lived in New York my entire adult life, Gabriel. And I've had a private driver for the last twenty years. Is it that surprising I never learned?" Angela said.

"Wow, so you are like, really rich?" Luke asked.

"Was. I'm sure by now everything in my name has been seized by Homeland Security. As if Nathan handing The Company over to them wasn't enough." Defeated, she returned to the back seat and closed the door.

"Let's just go. I'll take the wheel," Luke said, getting into the driver's seat.

Peter and Sylar exchanged glances.

"Don't. I'm too tired," Peter said, getting into the car next to his mother and letting her put her head on his shoulder.

Sylar shrugged and sat in the passenger's seat.

"Was it something I said?" he asked nobody in particular. He leaned back and closed his eyes as Luke pulled back onto the interstate.

A few hours later, Peter woke up and was watching the landscape go by when he noticed something amiss.

"Did that sign we just pass say Santa Fe?"

"Yes, it did," Sylar said grimly, turning his head to look at the driver. "Luke, please tell me you didn't."

"What, take a wrong turn at Albuquerque? Come on, don't tell me you never wanted to."

"Luke!" Angela's head came up at the yelling from her son.

"Relax, we're only like, 45 minutes off course. Well, ninety minutes, both ways."

Everyone except Sylar gave cries of alarm as the car lifted into the air, rotated, flew several feet, and set down on the shoulder on the other side of I-25, heading back south.

The driver's side door and the lid to the trunk swung open simultaneously. Luke yelped as he was snatched out of his seat and thrown into the trunk with telekinesis. He watched in amazement as bags moved to make room for him. Both door and lid slammed shut again. The car re-started as Sylar slid over the center console to take the wheel.

"Uh, Gabriel? Not that that wasn't impressive, but aren't there about ten people calling 911 right about now?" Peter asked, looking up and down the nearly empty desert highway.

"Nope," the killer said as he adjusted the rearview mirror. "In fact, nobody noticed a thing." He was really getting the hang of Parkman's power.

They didn't let Luke out until they stopped near Gallup to switch cars. Angela refused to say why she wanted to steal a bunch of shovels, so they just piled them in the back of the SUV and started the final leg of their journey west.

* * *

><p>Coyote Sands, Arizona<p>

* * *

><p>Six hours later, they were driving down a dusty road that circled around some old run-down cabins. Peter pulled to a stop beside a rusted out Jeep. Everyone got out of the car and started wandering around, stretching their legs. There was an old wooden sign nearby that read Coyote Sands Relocation Center.<p>

"We drove non-stop for almost two days for this?" Luke asked, feeling greatly mislead. Sure, he'd never been this far away from home before, but jeez... this place looked like the set of some Old West movie. And he hated the Old West.

Sylar thought it looked beautiful. Like a ghost town. The mountains nearby topped with snow. The silence. This was an important place. He could feel it. Like Isaac's loft, or Kirby Plaza. This place held memories. History. Their history.

"Ma, I gotta agree with Luke here. Not that we all didn't appreciate that tour of the most boring interstates in America, but what the hell did you bring us here for?" Peter asked, walking back from the sign.

"Because to prepare for the future, you have to understand the past. We never wanted either of you boys to learn about what happened here. But now you have to. This is where it all started, for me, for our families. I was brought here in 1961, with my parents, and... my sister." Angela said.

"Sister?" Peter sounded shocked.

"Alice, my baby sister. They... they all died here. That's why... I never spoke about any of this, to anyone, Peter. It was too painful. But now... you need to know what happened here. How it all began for me, for us. When I found out there were other people out there who could do things they couldn't explain."

"This is where I met Daniel Linderman and Charles Deveaux, Peter. Robert Bishop. And your mother, Gabriel. Her name was Maria. Maria Giovanni," she responded to the obvious question in his eyes.

"We all became close friends, for life after finding each other here. But Maria, she was my best friend, more like a sister really."

"What was her ability?" Sylar asked quietly.

"She was a dream walker."

"Like Charles Deveaux?" Peter asked.

"No, Charles was a telepath. He learned how to enter people's dreams. Maria, instead of going into other people's dreams, brought them into hers." She leveled her gaze on the taller man.

"That's what I did with you in Level Five." Angela silently nodded, waiting for him to finish putting the pieces together.

"So all along you knew I could do that because you knew my real mom, and I inherited her power?" Another silent nod.

"But how did you activate my power from a coma?"

"I didn't, Gabriel."

"How could I initiate a power, for the first time, drugged up, that I didn't even know I had?"

"Don't we all?"

"What?" Sylar asked, turning to Peter.

"The first time our powers manifest. Isn't it usually unconsciously, a surprise? I mean, I had prophetic dreams, you had Mohinder's father, but not everyone has warning."

"But Peter, I was unconscious, on those power suppress..."

"It wasn't the first time, Gabriel." Angela interrupted. "Or the first time you had used that power with me. You've always had it, and used it, since before you were born."

Sylar charged forward and grabbed the woman with both hands.

"How. The Fuck. Do you know that? And stop with the dragging it out for dramatic effect!" he yelled, clenched fists bruising into her arms.

Angela didn't bat an eye at the grabbing or the yelling, but she did look near to tears. She slowly began shaking her head as she put her palms against his cheeks.

"Gabriel. I am so, very sorry." She watched the anger melt into confusion. "I should have just told you everything right from the start."

"Why didn't you?"

"Shame. Regret. I didn't want you to know... and I thought a simple lie would be easier to believe than a terribly complicated truth. That all of this is my fault. Maria's death. What you've become. I failed you, both of you, when you needed me the most."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I've known you've had that power since birth, because I was there, at your birth. Like I said, your mother and I were very close. After I lost Alice... I had always had a little sister. It just seemed natural for Maria to slip into that role. And she was all alone too. An only child. An orphan."

"I helped her with you because I had had Nathan, but he was already in school. You brought us closer together again. I had shared Maria's dreams for years. And you used to bring us into yours all the time, even when you were still in the womb."

"That doesn't explain why this, my life, is your fault," he said, letting her go and backing away to stand next to Peter.

"Because you were my responsibility. Should have been. I'm..." She smiled sadly. "I'm not your birth mother Gabriel, but I am your Godmother."

"You can't be serious."

"Oh wait. I haven't even gotten to the complicated part yet."

Sylar, Peter, and Luke listened attentively and with growing confusion, exasperation, and disbelief as Angela told her story of love and betrayal.

How Samson and Arthur had been friends already when Daniel met them in Vietnam, and brought them to meet the others, after. That Arthur, Nathan, and she were at Gabriel's christening. And that the only reason he wasn't play-mates with Nathan was the age difference and Peter wasn't born yet.

Luke really started to enjoy the absurdity of it all when Mrs. Petrelli revealed that Mr. Petrelli had tampered with her memories after Sylar's old man had sold him to his brother and killed his mom. That she had known about the abuse, but had kept being mind wiped by her husband to hide it.

She had been convinced that Sylar's mom had run off with another man, taking the child with them. And the old man, Samson, had excised himself from The Company, never to be heard from again.

From stone cold killer and super powered corporate conspiracy mastermind, to bird watching and taxidermy. How gay is that? Luke thought.

Oh, and the side note of how Arthur pressured Mr. Linderman, Daniel, into giving up Angela and then taking away everyone's memories of the years long romance, before all this other crap happened?

Classic.

Tragically Thwarted True Love Epic.

It was just like his mom's soaps. Which he never, ever watched.

Because there was nothing else on because his mom was too cheap to spring for cable.

And he was home a lot in the daytime.

Peter really started wishing his mother would just shut. the hell. up. when she started talking about The Company, and how they (his father) had kept track of Gabriel after his "adoption". Orchestrating his participation in The Human Genome Project. Surveilling him as he killed Dr. Suresh, the guy with telekinesis, and others.

Not intervening, or... hey... crazy idea... helping... somebody.

Just, you know, surveilling.

Methodically.

Responsibly scientifically.

And fucking annoyingly keeping track of each and every one of Sylar's homicidal day trips.

Peter didn't need any powers to tell that his partner was a volcano building to eruption.

And yet his mother just kept on talking.

Clearly this had been coming for a while. She had a lot of things to get off her chest. A lot of sins to confess. Peter could respect venting. Catharsis.

The phrase 'verbal diarrhea' came to mind.

He was gratified to hear the snort of laughter to his left.

"Stop," Sylar said. He raised his hand, fingers pinching to close Angela's mouth. "That's... more than enough actually." He turned abruptly and walked away.

After exchanging looks with the others, Peter followed him down the dusty roadway.

"Gabriel wait!" His partner jerked out of his grasp. Peter's eyes widened in shock at how much that action hurt.

Sylar stopped moving and turned around, looking apologetic. He held his hands down, and lowered his head in defeat.

"This is too much. I need... Fuck!" He ran his hands over his face in frustration. "I need some space. Okay?" The taller man's eyes moved around desperately before settling on Peter's.

"Are you leaving?" Peter asked, taking a step closer.

"No! Hey, no." Sylar closed the distance between them, reaching out for Peter's hands and folding them between his own larger ones. "We're partners."

Peter's hands were kissed.

"I am not gonna run out on you," the older man promised. "I just need to wrap my head around all this fucking insanity."

_'I wish I could help you,'_ Peter thought while pushing feelings of remorse and support.

"You're an idiot. Come here." Sylar pulled him into a hug. 'You are helping me, Peter. You have no idea.' He pulled back to take Peter's face in his hands. "Do not come after me. Even if you hear yelling or crashes."

"Alright, just try not to burn the place down around us? I think we should consider staying here for a while. This place could make a good base camp."

"I'll see what I can do." Sylar grinned slyly and leaned down to cover Peter's mouth with his own in a short kiss. He couldn't resist stealing another, longer one, before finally pulling back. He winked and slapped Peter lightly. Then he turned and jogged away, quickly disappearing behind a row of cabins on the other side of the ghost town's main thoroughfare.

Peter took a long deep breath, smile stretching slowly across his face as he watched his crazy lover leave. 'Oh yeah, gonna get me a piece of that tonight,' he thought, hoping the other man was still close enough to hear him.

The young man shook his head at his own idiocy. His mother was going to kill him. If she got down from her cross long enough to notice. He turned around to face the music but stopped short at seeing Luke standing just a couple feet behind him.

"Dude. You are so lucky. Sylar is smoking hot."

"Luke, at your age is there anyone you don't think is hot?"

"Fatties?" the teen responded after a moment's consideration.

Peter snorted in disbelief and started walking back to where his mother was waiting.

"So aren't you gonna warn me away from your mom?" Luke asked, falling into step next to him.

Is he kidding? First I get that spew of baggage, and Jesus, subtext of rebound and repression from her. And now this? Peter stopped and faced his new young friend. He paused, trying to be considerate of the adolescent's feelings.

"Luke, don't take this as an insult or anything, but you and my mother... there is no way in hell that is ever happening. And if I thought in some insane alternate future that it could, I would be warning you about her. Not the other way around." And then stabbing myself in the brain.

"And Luke," Peter put a hand on the younger man's shoulder and squeezed. "Keep your eyes, and everything else, off of Sylar or I will end you. Are we clear?"

"Like crystal, dude."

Peter tried to keep the smile off his face as he approached his mother, he really did, but her stern mom glare wasn't helping. That had been his and Gabriel's first PDA, and the first conclusive proof that the suspicions he knew she had were correct. The staring contest only lasted a minute before he couldn't take it anymore.

"It's a good thing we're not really brothers, huh?"

"Honestly, Peter."

"Hey! Don't even start."

"Peter, this is going to end up getting you killed."

"I'm not the one running for liar of the year here, Ma. That would be you. Or. I'm sorry, confessor of the year."

At his mother's reproachful look, Peter amended, "Look, I'm sorry. All that... it's terrible. And I'm sorry for you. For Gabriel and his mother. For all that you've lost." Not gonna mention Linderman, he thought, shuddering.

"But come on. All at once? That was a little much. And it really doesn't put you in a position to judge me on my relationship choices."

"Then you obviously weren't paying attention."

"Actually I was. But this situation isn't the same. No one's messing with people's memories or threatening off love rivals. Christ! I didn't manipulate Sylar into bed. And he's not using some mind mojo on me. We're just..." He broke off, running a hand through his hair.

He couldn't believe he was having this conversation with his mother. Not to mention the strange, homicidal, possibly sociopathic teenage boy hovering somewhere nearby. The indiscriminately horny, homicidal, sociopathic teenage boy.

_This is what I get for wondering if my life could get any more surreal._

It was like he was starring in his own private, psychotic hallucination. Any minute now, he'd come down off the drugs to find himself back on Level Five. For one terrifying moment, Peter seriously considered the possibility. Had they tested the power suppressing drug's possible side effects when mixed with the cerebrospinal fluid of former LSD users?

_And now I'm just freaking myself out._ Peter got a hold of himself, laughing nervously.

"Okay look, where was I? Right, Sylar and me... we just teamed up to fight Nathan, okay? To protect each other and the rest of us. And somewhere along the way things changed. I trust him, Ma. We may not work out, as a couple, but I really don't think he's going to kill me over a lover's spat."

"He's unstable Peter. He probably doesn't know what he's going to do from one moment to the next."

"Maybe not, but I'm pretty sure that he can still hear you talking."

"Oh, let him. He doesn't scare me. I've changed his diapers for Christ's sake. Yours too, young man. And I was fighting for my life, and loosing, against evil and the government, and forming teams, and using super powers long before any of you were ever born." She began pacing in a circle.

"Sooner or later you would be wise to understand that I know more than you do. About a great many things. Especially situations like this." She gestured around them.

"I like him, mom. I really like him. I'm not stupid. I know what he is. But I see a different side of him. I see a hell of a lot more than you do." He closed the distance between them.

"He's funny, and sarcastic. Fiercely protective. And sweet. And most of the time he's a conceited, smug bastard, and a complete control freak. But that's okay, because I know he just acts like that because he's terribly insecure. And he thinks I don't get that about him but I do. I get him."

He lowered his voice. "And he understands me in a way nobody else ever could. I need him, Ma."

"Oh, Peter." Angela sighed. "Do you think I'm so old that I don't know how you feel? That I don't remember what it's like to be in love with someone... magical? It makes you forget the danger that comes with these powers. It can make you forget everything."

She stroked her hand through her son's hair. They looked at each other with the same deep, dark, eyes, filled with sadness and regret. Peter allowed himself to be pulled into his mother's embrace. After only a slight hesitation he hugged her tighter, burying his face in her shoulder.

"Um, sorry to interrupt this," Luke said hesitantly, "but... well look."

The Petrellis turned to see Nathan and Claire swoop in and land a few yards away.

"Look, besides the whole Sylar and me sleeping together thing, I need to know. How do you feel about our partnership? What we're trying to do here," Peter asked in an urgent tone.

Angela's focus returned to her youngest son. "I think it's a good decision. To end this before it goes any further. Everything else we've tried so far has failed. And the two of you together... god help me but you're right to ask Gabriel to fight with you. You balance each other. Strength and heart." She said, thinking back to a rooftop conversation. That seemed so long ago.

"You're what we need." Angela's eyes, filled with apprehension, drifted back to Nathan. "If we're to get it right this time." Her voice, if not hopeful, was at least determined.

Their hands met and clasped as they watched the rest of their family approach.


	4. Chapter 4

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Sylar yelled at Nathan, coming up from behind them.

"No! Sylar, wait!" Peter called out as Sylar passed by him and his mother. Angela had neglected to mention she had called him too.

"You trust too easily, Peter." Sylar allowed himself to be restrained. "This is what you brought me here for, remember?"

"Peter, are you actually working with this monster?" Nathan said as he approached, walking ahead of Claire.

Peter slowly blinked, eyes opening in fury as he turned to face his brother.

"Why shouldn't I? You think you're better than him? How many innocent people are dead because of what you've done? How many more are being hunted down as we speak?"

"Too many, but you know I didn't mean for any of this to happen. You know..." Nathan's voice was choked off as Sylar broke away from Peter, telekinetically grabbing the other Petrelli.

"You didn't mean it? Are you serious? What did you think would happen when you started treating people who can fight back like the Japanese and it's 1942?" Sylar's voice rose with every word, and with every step he took towards the man.

"You personally arrest you own brother, your daughter, and you have the nerve to call me a monster?" As his hand met Nathan's throat Sylar released his TK hold. Maintaining the grip with only his own strength, he baited Nathan into trying to fly, allowing him to copy the power.

Applying telekinesis once more, they slowly rose into the air together.

"I think this is a conversation best had in private," Sylar said as they ascended.

* * *

><p>Claire watched powerlessly as the father she was just getting to know was taken away by her nightmare. Sylar. The one man she hated and feared more than she had ever imagined possible.<p>

Claire didn't get more than a moment to worry though, before being pulled into a hug by her uncle. And then another by her grandmother.

Angela pulled back until she was holding each of Claire's hands in her own and just looked at her for a moment. "Oh, my dear. It is so good to see you well. You and Nathan."

"Yeah, you too. Speaking of Nathan, isn't anybody worried?"

Peter's eyes, which had been focused on the men high in the distance, lowered to hers. "It's alright, Claire. Sylar isn't going to hurt him."

Her own eyes widened in disbelief. "Peter..."

"Ma, could you give us a minute?" Peter interrupted.

"Of course," she nodded. "I could use a minute to myself as well." Angela kissed her granddaughter once more and then walked back to the car. She looked around, wondering where Luke had gotten off to.

"It's so good to see you, Claire. I've been so worried." Peter pulled her close again and kissed her hair.

"I can take care of myself. And Nathan too, apparently," she replied hugging him back.

"Should be the other way around," Peter said with a trace of bitterness in his voice.

"Yeah, yeah. Peter, what's Sylar doing here? Are you really working with him?" She pulled away to meet his eyes.

Peter opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He looked down into her young face and wondered, what do you tell your eighteen year old niece in a situation like this?

"I... ah... a week ago, I was in a fight with a big group of military. I almost died. Ga... ehem, Sylar, came outta nowhere, saved me. We've been hiding together ever since. Working with this Rebel person, trying to save others."

"Rebel? I've been working with Rebel out in Costa Verde."

"Imagine that." He smiled and touched her face with the back of his hand.

She didn't return his smile. "You can't trust him."

"Rebel?"

"No! Sylar. He's nothing but a killer, Peter."

"You don't know him like I do."

"The hell, I don't!" Claire pushed him away in anger. "Or maybe I know him even better," she continued, beginning to pace.

"He gave this reform song and dance before, you know. Working with my dad. Acting like he was sorry for what he did to me. Trying to bond. It made me sick! And it was all a lie!"

She rounded on him.

"You know what he did after that. Trapping us in Hartsdale. Playing with us. He killed my mother, Peter!" She shouted into his face, tears starting to cloud her eyes.

Peter put his hands on her shoulders. "I know, Claire. I know. I'm not trying to apologize for anything he's done. All I can say is that he's not lying about wanting to help us now."

She shook her head. "Why are you so quick to trust him lately?"

"I'm not!" he said indignantly, letting her go.

"Oh, like when he threw you out a window and you claimed he was doing it to protect you?" she challenged.

"Actually, I was right about that," Peter said reluctantly, eyes drifting off to he side. "And about him breaking my fall."

Claire's look was flat, level, and left no room for doubt as to what she was thinking.

"You know, I always thought that what everybody else mistook as naivete was just your amazing hopefulness. Your compassion. Your ability to see the good in the world that everyone else is too busy, or self-absorbed to notice."

Her eyes raked him from head to toe. "Do you want to know what I think now?" she asked with a trace of hostility.

"No, not really." He looked around, shaking his head. "Claire, I don't know what to tell you." His voice rose in frustration. "Maybe I am being naive. Because I do trust him. He has saved my life again, and again. How can I not?"

He grabbed her when she went to turn away. "And let me remind you that the government is hunting us all down, whether we are on the same side or not. And whether you like it or not, we need him," he insisted, lowering his head to catch her eye again.

"Claire, you have got to trust me. He really wants to help us. And I really believe that we stand a much better chance of winning this with him by our side. He may be our only chance. And, for what's its worth, Mom agrees."

A moment of staring and Claire sighed. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

"I don't know, Peter. I just don't know." She looked up into her beloved uncle's face. Her hero. "This is irony you know? You asking me to trust the man you saved me from."

He touched her cheek again. "Yeah, I know. It's probably not fair, either."

"No, it's not. And I'm not... going to trust him. But I do trust you." She relented, reaching up to take his hand. "I trust you. Okay?"

"Okay," he agreed, squeezing her hand.

Peter glanced over Claire's shoulder and smiled in relief when he recognized the driver of the car that had just stopped. He nodded his head and told her to turn around.

"Dad!" Claire shouted, running over to where Noah Bennet stood beside a station wagon, talking to Angela.

"Noah," Peter extended his hand once he was close enough. "Glad you could make it."

"Peter," Noah said in greeting, shaking his hand, the other arm still around his daughter. "It's nice to be on the same side again. Where's Nathan? I thought he was with you all too?"

Everyone else exchanged glances before raising their eyes skyward.

* * *

><p>"Well, here we are," Sylar said as he and Nathan floated high in the clouds. "And in such lofty, heavenly surroundings. Definitely worthy of a United States senator. Don't you agree, Nathan?"<p>

His hand dropped from the other man's throat. Without letting him drift too far away, he settled them both for a lengthy chat. As if on bar stools, they hovered inches away from on another in the brilliantly blue, cloud laced sky.

"Now let's see... where to get started?" Sylar asked, propping his head on one hand and rolling his eyes.

"I know! How about...the blood of every agent and soldier I've killed is on your hands. But I guess that's nothing new to a man like you, is it? What's the lives of a few more peons and jarheads worth stacked up against world domination?"

"It's not like that," Nathan protested. "I was trying to protect everyone from each other."

"Oh, really? And how's that working out for you?"

"Obviously, not very well," Nathan answered, sounding defeated. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He couldn't believe that this was where his road had led him.

_'Gabriel, please. Don't kill him. He's my brother. My responsibility. Sylar... I'm not ready for him to be dead yet. Please understand... he was like a father to me. A good father.'_

"Do you have any idea how lucky you are? What I want to do to you right now? I could tear you apart. I could cut you into tiny, little filets. Slowly. I haven't actually taken the time to conduct any experiments on how long it takes a fully grown man to bleed to death. Would you like to help?"

Nathan was stone faced.

_'Relax, Peter. I'm just going to play with him a bit. See what's going on in his mind and if we can trust him.'_

Sylar smirked. "I have to admit, I'm a little impressed, Senator. You haven't pissed on yourself or vomited. You haven't begged, cried, tried to get Peter or your mommy, or even dear, sweet Claire to come to your rescue.

"What I haven't figured out yet is if you're trying to take the easy way out of this mess by letting me kill you, or if you're just stubborn."

"I know you think I'm a coward," Nathan started, "a greasy, dishonest politician. You're right. I am."

"No shit. Save the heartfelt speech..."

"So it's okay for you to ask for forgiveness, but not me? And don't say that's not what's going on here, Sylar. You're driving across country with my family! Why did I think hypocrisy was beneath you?"

"Oh, you are good. All right then, let's hear it. Or better yet," Sylar said, pushing up Nathan's jacket sleeve and putting his hand on the exposed forearm, "let's feel it." His eyes were inches from his adversary's.

Nathan closed his eyes and swallowed, skin crawling from the killer's touch. He took a deep breath to say what he had to to get away from him.

"I was wrong. I was selfish and short-sighted and I let my ambition blind me to everything else. I was angry at Peter for betraying me and dad. For destroying our project with the Marine Corps. I wanted to get back at him.

"I thought I could use the information from Pinehearst and Primatech Research to win over a position with the President. Because I have no policy, no experience, and I thought his endorsement and the prestige this would give me was the only way I could win re-election.

"I sold out my family. I sold out everyone like us. For power. And now I've got so much blood on my hands... I don't believe in forgiveness, Sylar. Not for our sins. Not from God. I believe, in the end, we all get exactly what we deserve. I am going to hell, just like you. And there's not a damn thing either one of us can do about it."

"Then what's the point of all this?" Sylar asked, well aware of all the shameful little feelings the senator wasn't talking about.

"To earn their forgiveness," Nathan answered, looking down at his family. "I wasn't always like this... such a monster. I was... well not great, not a hero, like Pete. But I was a better man. I used to deserve his love. I used to be brave. I could be again."

Nathan turned his eyes to the man he assumed was his judge and jury.

"Give me the chance to prove myself. Let me help fix this mess that I've caused." He closed his eyes and gritted out the last word. "Please."

Sylar too clenched his jaw as he judged the truth of Nathan's words. And he had thought having empathy was neat.

* * *

><p>"Here they come," Noah said. Everyone watched as Sylar and Nathan landed separately, a few feet apart.<p>

Peter walked over to Sylar, whose gaze was still fixed on his brother's.

"Sylar? Is Nathan staying?" 'Can we trust him?'

"For now," was the reply to both questions.

Peter took an audible breath and turned to where Nathan stood, now being embraced by Claire. He watched, feeling a little like an outsider as Noah and Angela greeted him as well. He glanced at his partner out of the corner of his eye.

_'So what now?'_

_'Stay and have some time with your family. Take flyboy to get us all some food at that diner we passed. I think Noah and I could use some lengthy private time. He needs... different handling than Nathan.'_

_'What are you going to do?'_

_'Try to find someplace suitable to give you that piece of somethin' somethin' you were angling for.'_ Sylar turned and waggled his eyebrows suggestively before catching Bennet's eye.

"Hey, Noah," he called out. "Care to help me scope out some habitable cabins in this mess? Get a few beds cleaned up?" He cut his eyes over to the Petrelli family and back.

"You're not getting me alone so you can kill me are you?" the older man asked.

Sylar rolled his eyes to his partner. "Peter..."

"He's fine, Noah. Trust me. And while we're on the subject, to be clear, this is mine and Sylar's show." Peter's eyes moved from person to person as he spoke.

"If you choose to stay with us, it's by our rules. And make no mistake. We are not here to run. Or hide. We're here to make a stand." His eyes stopped on Nathan.

"If you stay, you fight with us. Both of us. I'll understand if some of you want to leave in the morning. But," he glanced at Sylar before continuing. "All of you are welcome to stay. Fair enough?"

Noah nodded, looking skeptical. Nathan and Claire wore identical expressions of vague horror. Angela just sighed. Luke had walked up and was eyeballing everyone with curiosity.

After Peter's speech, Sylar and Noah went to explore the cabins. A barked out "Luke" had the boy following behind.

"Peter, what the hell is going on here?" Nathan began.

Peter looked beseechingly at his mother. Claire, he was happy to handle. But he was not ready to be reasonable with his brother yet.

"Nathan," Angela smoothly took over. "A lot has changed recently. Because of your... because of you. Your brother's been forced to make an alliance that is insanely dangerous, but unfortunately, necessary. Smart. He's trying to fix your mess, Nathan. And using Sylar to do it.

"They rescued me from Danko's men. They rescued that... boy. And there are other reasons for Gabriel to have the right to be here. Reasons that don't have anything to do with you or this most recent catastrophe. Either way, he is here and they're in charge. And I'm staying here, with them. I hope you and Claire decide to as well."

Nathan remained unconvinced. He turned big, brown eyes to Peter.

"Don't. Even." Peter gritted out. "After what you've done, you're lucky Sylar hasn't torn you into little pieces. Did you know I almost got captured and killed last week? Someone shot a missile at me, for Christ's sake! If it wasn't for that man, and that man alone, I would be dead right now!" he yelled, pointing in Sylar's direction for emphasis.

"He says we can trust you, and I trust him. So you stay, for now." Peter walked closer as he spoke, until his face was inches from Nathan's. He raised his chin defiantly.

"But if you betray us all, again? I will kill you myself," he promised, the words over enunciated and filled with anger.

Claire pulled Angela aside while the men were distracted by their stare-off. "What's really going on here?" she asked suspiciously.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Please. Something funny's going on between Peter and Sylar. I just know it." Claire eyes darted around.

"Oh my dear, you never cease to remind me how much smarter you are than I was, at your age. You are right, of course. There is something going on between my son and that... and Gabriel. Something that must run its course, I'm afraid."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Angela simply gave her a look. When Claire remained uncertain, Angela widened her eyes and kind of motioned with her head.

Claire's eyes widened in return. "Oh my god. You mean they're really... together, together?"

"I'm afraid so." Angela closed her eyes, and nodded with a frown.

"But that's... he... that's..." Claire closed her eyes, raised her hands, and backed away from the mental conundrum.

"I don't even know what that is," she spit out, raising angry eyes to her grandmother.

"It's best not to dwell on it. Suffice to say, it is, and there's nothing we can do about it. Except hope for the best," Angela advised, sounding resigned.

"Hope for the best?" Claire's jaw dropped. "Excuse my language, Angela. But, are you fucking kidding me?"

* * *

><p>Sylar held several mattresses in the air as he, Luke, and Noah beat years of dust out of them with some wooden tennis rackets they had found.<p>

"Hey Luke, can you send some microwaves into these things? I think that will kill any bugs," Sylar asked.

"I might burn 'em. They're like, a hundred years old."

"Not if you concentrate and control your ability. Come on. This will be good practice."

"Practice using my power while doing a household chore? So, now you're Mr. Miyagi?"

"Shut it."

Sylar walked around and began cleaning another mattress. After a moment he looked up to see Noah standing behind him, staring at him.

"Your arm worn out already, old man?" he taunted.

"What are you doing here, Sylar?"

Sylar looked from side to side and back to Noah. "Cleaning mattresses?"

"No. Here. With us. With the Petrellis. Again. If I believed you actually had feelings left, I might think you'd developed Stockholm Syndrome or something."

Sylar raised his eyebrows, nodding slightly. "That's a very disturbing thought, Noah, thanks."

"Well either that, or you're working on some long term revenge scheme."

"And if I was, what would you do about it, Sheriff Bennet?" Sylar's voice was a western drawl as he got in the older man's face.

They stared at each other for half a minute.

"Are you?" Noah finally asked again.

"Am I what?"

"Are you planning to kill us all? Mess with our minds? Put sugar in my gas tank? What do you think?" Noah was beyond exasperated.

"Only if you keep asking stupid questions," Sylar sneered.

"Dammit Sylar, I am..."

"I'm here because Peter asked me to help him. To work with him. Be his partner," Sylar interrupted.

"Really? He asked for your help, and you gave it, just like that?"

"Well, he did ask me very nicely." Sylar smiled and cut his eyes to the side, after hearing a choked off laugh coming from the mattress next to him.

"You're working with him because he asked you nicely?"

"You should know that you get more flies with honey, Noah. Sincerity goes a long way, even with monsters like me." He crossed his arms in front of him, regarding the man with superiority.

"Is that so?"

"That is so." Sylar nodded with a smirk.

"Still looking for a home and family, Sylar?"

"Aren't we all?"

Noah just huffed out a breath. "And the kid?"

Luke came around. "The kid's name is Luke," he said.

"I found him in Newark, New Jersey," Sylar explained.

"Newark? So the EMP was you?"

Sylar raised his eyebrows with a cocky grin.

"And it was to get you out of the jail?" Noah asked Luke.

The teen nodded, smiling from ear to ear.

"So what do you do?" Noah gave the kid a once over glance.

"I shoot microwaves from my hands."

"That's different."

"Is it?" Sylar's voice was all sarcasm. "What, you never caught and imprisoned one of them before? What a pity."

* * *

><p>"You were a killer. You deserved to be behind bars," Noah said later, as the three of them were taking a break inside one of the cabins.<p>

"And being treated like an animal, a lab rat? Tortured to death? Did I deserve that too?" Sylar asked, putting down what was left of his fries.

"No. You didn't." Noah looked away and took a sip from his drink. "You were right, before. When you told Claire that I didn't see you, any of you, as human beings, you were right. And I was wrong. We were all wrong. I'm starting to believe... that we were wrong about a lot of things."

_(We created a monster. We set him loose on the world.)_

_(He had a soul, Bennet. He could have been saved.)_

_(We're not missionaries. We follow orders, Elle. We're agents.)_

"That's quite a change of heart," Sylar said to the man sitting across from him.

"Lot of empty nights lately. Lots of time to think." Noah's eyes flitted around the room in discomfort. "What's been happening in D.C., it's not good. Working with Danko..." He frowned, unable to find the right words.

"See something familiar? Something you didn't like?"

Noah laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I did. And no, I did not like what I saw. Don't like what I've become," he said in disgust.

He turned to Luke. "You know, before your mentor here, I was the boogeyman for people with abilities. I'm what they warned their children about at bed time. I was their monster."

"If we had known about you," he continued, "we would have come to your house and tazered you unconscious. Drugged and abducted you. We would have interrogated you, tested you, and experimented on you for days. Then wiped your memory and taken you back home, complete with an implanted tracking device. Tagged like an animal on National Geographic."

Luke swallowed his bite of hamburger. It stuck in his suddenly dry throat.

Noah set his iced tea down and leaned forward, to make sure he had the boy's full attention.

"Unless we deemed you to be a threat, that's is. Then, we would have never let you go. No trial. No authorities. No defense. No parents. We would have just locked you up, and thrown away the key. Or maybe offered you a deal to work with us, bagging and tagging other specials. Either way, your life would have never been your own again."

Luke didn't know what the fuck to say to that. He turned wide eyes to Sylar, but his focus was still on the very scary man in the nerdy glasses.

The two men stared at one another. Sylar's forefinger rubbed his lip absently as he studied his former hunter, his former partner.

_'So what do you say, Sylar? Are we actually going to try and trust each other this time?'_ Noah projected.

Sylar was surprised, and a little impressed. Apparently, his newly acquired telepathy had not escaped the company man's notice. He lowered his hand and relaxed.

"Oh, why not? I seem to be trusting everybody these days. Why not you? Besides," he suddenly leaned forward, dark eyes hungry. "You have a lot of valuable information stored in that head of yours. About us. And about our enemies. We could definitely use you."

"Is that supposed to make me feel welcome?" Noah did not want a repeat of his most recent interrogation session. Somehow he didn't think Sylar's mental fingers would be any more gentle than Parkman's had been.

Sylar jumped up and stuck out his hand. "But you are welcome here, Noah. No further mental interrogation necessary. Scout's honor," he said cheerfully, winking.

"Just like that?" Noah asked, standing up, but not taking the offered hand.

"Well, you see, I have a lot of nifty powers now, that when combined make the world's most accurate bullshit detector. And though it pains me to say it, you're telling the truth."

He lowered his voice. "And it doesn't hurt that I got the chance to read your file while I was at Primatech that last time. I know what got you into this... business."

As Noah's face darkened with anger, Sylar switched to telepathy.

_'Relax, Bennet. Your secret is safe with me. I just wanted you to know that I understand. You weren't always a monster, either. Even you used to a good man. And you said we didn't have anything in common.'_

"Now the real problem, is that you don't have any powers to tell you whether or not you can trust me. Trust me with your safety. With Claire's." Sylar said her name carefully.

"And I can't let you hang around here if you don't. For obvious reasons." He stuck his hands in his jeans pockets and waited for the verdict.

Noah glanced over at Luke, who was eating again, but with eyes glued to the action. It could have been Lyle sitting there. Noah missed his family, terribly. But he still didn't miss crossword puzzles, and Sandra and Lyle were exactly where they should be. Safe, for now.

His focus returned to Sylar. The man offering him his latest job. And the only man left it seemed, with the means and the motivation to get them out of this current fiasco. He sighed, accepting that he was where he should be too.

"If your loyalty is to Peter, then we shouldn't have a problem. He's been thrown a little off course lately, but I still trust his heart to be in the right place. And I have never doubted your intelligence. If anyone can knock some sense into him, and keep Nathan in line, it's you. If for no other reason than to show you up.

"And don't forget, I know quite a bit about you too, Gabriel. If you're really trying to be anything like the man that used to restore timepieces, then I think I can trust you." He held out his hand.

Sylar gave a small smile and stepped forward. Part of him expected thunder to sound and the earth to shake as their hands met. He got the feeling that Noah did too. His smile widened and he used their joined hands to pull the older man close.

"Only Peter calls me Gabriel," Sylar said threateningly.

"Is that right?" Noah said with an answering grin, not in the least bit scared.

Sylar's expression had cat got the cream written all over it.

"Angela calls him Gabriel too," Luke added, as they walked out of the cabin into the cool night air.

"She's family," Sylar said.

"Since when?" Noah asked with a hint of hysteria in his voice. He tripped down the last two steps.

"Didn't you get the Company memo, Bennet?" Sylar caught him and slapped him on his back. "Turns out, the Petrellis are really my godparents. Neat, huh?"

"That's... not in your file."

Sylar smirked. "No shit."

* * *

><p>Peter was walking out of the cabin he and Nathan had been setting up for their mom and Claire when he saw headlights in the distance. He ran over to where everyone had parked and couldn't believe who was getting out of the car. He thought for sure that the darkness was playing tricks on him.<p>

"Mohinder?"

"Peter?"

"What are you..." They met and hugged briefly before Peter suddenly backed up and looked at the other man with unease.

"Wait. Weren't you captured?" He looked around like he expected agents to swoop down on them from all directions.

"Yes, but I broke out with Matt, Daphne, and Tracy."

"Daphne? Is she..."

Mohinder shook his head sadly. "She died at the hospital."

Peter appeared pained for a moment. "But what are you doing here?" He followed Mohinder around to the back of the car.

"I found these files among my father's things back in New York. He worked here in the early sixties." Mohinder opened the trunk and indicated the boxes within.

Peter bent down and began rifling through the folders. "He was a scientist here?" he asked.

"Yes. He conducted interviews and... experiments on people with abilities. Children mostly, it seems." Mohinder's voice reflected his grief at learning this new piece of the puzzle that was his father.

"Oh man, Gabriel is not going to take this well," Peter said, pulling a file from one of the boxes.

"Gabriel? You mean Sylar? He's here too?" He lifted his head and looked around.

"Yes. And this," Peter held up the folder, "is his mother's file."

Mohinder tilted his head to look at the name. Giovanni, Maria. She was the one who... his eyes widened. "That was Sylar's mother?"

* * *

><p>Sylar was walking across the quad with Luke, when he heard Peter and Mohinder's voices. They were still behind the buildings on the other side, and he was only getting part of the conversation.<p>

"That was Sylar's mother? ...some right to kill my father, he just didn't know it... what are you all doing... my mother was held here too and met..."

"Who's that?" Luke asked, as Peter and Mohinder appeared between two cabins, headed in their direction.

"That's Dr. Mohinder Suresh." Sylar stopped and raised an eyebrow at his young companion.

Luke straightened up, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Mohinder Suresh. Tamil Indian geneticist. Super-strength. Gave himself his ability through a serum he invented.

"His father, Chandra literally wrote the book on people with abilities. He found the genetic code for them and generated a list using the Human Genome Project that Angela mentioned. Found you in New York and the two of you worked together for a few weeks. Then you killed him, took the list, and that's how you got all your first powers. And Mohinder gave you a ridiculously painful spinal tap in return."

Sylar smiled and nodded. "Very good. You have been paying attention."

"Well, this is a lot more interesting than anything they tried to teach me in school." Luke grinned conspiratorially.

They turned as Peter and Mohinder walked up to them. Mohinder hung back, clutching two folders in his hands.

"What's going on?" Sylar asked, looking beyond Peter to the new arrival.

"Mohinder's here."

"Yeah, I see that," he said sarcastically. "Why?"

"Okay, don't freak out."

"What now?"

"Mohinder's dad was a researcher here. He conducted experiments on people with abilities."

"Well, of course he did. What else? You were talking about my mother," he said accusingly in the scientist's direction.

Mohinder stepped closer and handed over one of the folders.

"Sylar." Mohinder was relieved that his voice remained steady.

"Mohinder." Sylar took the folder and looked the man up and down, suspiciously.

"This... it's your mother's file, from her time here. It doesn't mention you obviously, but your grandparents... you should just read the file." Mohinder finished with an impatient gesture.

Sylar opened the cover and saw a picture of his mother. He blinked and closed it again, needing a moment to regroup. He was getting way too much information from just holding the damn thing.

Both Peter and Mohinder took a step towards him, then stopped and looked at each other questioningly. No one made a sound. Eventually, Sylar looked up at Mohinder and swallowed. His expression and voice were subdued.

"Thank... thank you, Mohinder."

"Please, don't thank me. I'm... very sorry for what's in there." He said sincerely.

Peter's attention was drawn to Mohinder's hand as it seemed to make an aborted attempt for Gabriel's arm. His gaze moved back and forth between the two men. He looked over to Luke who was also watching the scene closely.

"I wanna get settled in for the night before I read this. And we need to get the rest of our stuff from the car," Sylar said to Peter, before turning. "Noah, you can show everyone the cabins we picked, yeah?" Sylar called out, as Noah, Angela, Claire, and Nathan walked up to them.

"Yeah, I got it. Go on," Noah said. He and Mohinder exchanged measuring looks.

"Luke, you're with us. Let's go." Sylar, Peter, and Luke walked off towards the makeshift car park.

The others went in the opposite direction across the quad.

"Claire, honey. You're with Angela over there. Right Nathan?" Noah pointed to a nearby cabin. It had a battery-powered lantern sitting on its front porch, and light coming from inside. "Mohinder, you can bunk with me and Nathan, until we can get another one cleaned. I'm pretty sure we have an extra mattress."

"Yes, thank you," Mohinder replied. He handed his other file over to Angela.

"Why did Peter go off with Sylar and that kid?" Nathan asked.

Angela and Claire exchanged a look.

"Well, I'm off to bed. Claire, I trust you can take this one," Angela said as she bent to kiss her granddaughter's cheek. "I've already had a similar conversation with him once. Goodnight, Nathan." She kissed him too and nodded to the other men before walking to the cabin that Noah had indicated.

"Thanks a lot, Grandma." Claire crossed her arms in front of her as she watched Angela walk away.

"All part of the service, dear." The older woman waved backwards.

Claire looked to Nathan's expectant face, her dad's amused look, and finally to Mohinder, who said, "I was actually wondering that myself."

Claire looked at the scientist in surprise then closed her eyes, gathering strength.

"Look, I don't know any details. Thank god. But from what I gather... Peter and Sylar... are together. As in, sleeping together." She slowly opened her eyes at the dead silence.

Nathan looked like he was going into shock. Mohinder looked stricken. Most disturbing was her dad's look of total "I knew it".

"And, I'm done here. Dad?"

"Sleep tight, Claire-bear." He hugged her close and kissed her hair.

Noah looked first to Mohinder who was breathing shallowly. "You all right there, doctor?"

"Yes, of course. As if I'd care..." He cleared his throat. "Where did you say our cabin was?"

"It's that one." Noah pointed to one that had another lantern in front, and Mohinder walked off without another word.

"You gonna to be okay, Nathan? Do you need to talk?" Noah tried to fake concern as he started to enjoy feeling like the last man standing.

"I just, I knew Peter... but, this isn't right." He was definitely not operating on all cylinders. Honestly, Nathan was exhausted. And he would swear he could feel that damned tequila hangover coming back.

"Is that why Sylar's helping us and not killing us?" he asked wearily.

"Actually, probably not. Sylar's been trying to change for a while now. Rehabilitation, he called it. Until he fell off the wagon, with a bang. You do know that last year he thought he was your brother, right? And that he worked for your father? And with me, for Angela at Primatech?"

"Someone must have forgotten to mention that." Nathan really felt like he might be sick now.

"Oh, yeah." Noah was having fun getting to twist this knife. "Angela and Arthur both had him going for awhile. It was almost painful to watch. If it hadn't been so hysterical, watching a monster jump through hoops for two old loonies who don't know better than to play with fire, that is. But I guess that must run in your family, huh?"

"I thought Peter shot dad," Nathan said faintly, ignoring the loonies comment.

"From what I understand, Sylar was there, helping."

"So it's been going on that long?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I do know that Peter and Sylar had some... encounters while they were both in Level Five. Apparently, it was pretty serious.

"And then there was Sylar running to the rescue when Arthur had Peter locked up in Pinehearst. But like I said, they thought they were brothers at the time. So surely nothing would have happened then... right?" Noah hadn't had this much fun in a long time.

"Exactly what are you implying, Noah?"

"I'm not implying anything, Nathan. Are you inferring something?"

"You know what, Bennet? I am done for the night. I don't need to know anything else." And with that, Nathan marched towards their cabin.

Noah watched him leave with an immense sense of satisfaction. He had been getting really tired of dancing to Nathan's arrogant, ignorant tune.

_(Daughter or not, she is running out of favors.)_

Noah had realized then that he had made a mistake trusting Nathan. Having to see Claire covered in her own blood again had solidified his fear. Playing double agent with Danko had given him more than few grey hairs, as well as an ulcer. And Sandra...

Things had to be bad when the idea of working for a murderous sociopath like Sylar seemed like a fine time to cut loose and stop playing the good boy. Noah started laughing to himself.

The inmates are running the asylum, he thought, looking around at the rotting cabins they were going to be calling home. It's a mad house. He took his glasses off and tried to compose himself, wishing for the millionth time that he had thought to take some of his wife's pills when she had kicked him out. He replaced his glasses and took another look around.

Ah well, no time like the present to get back to work.

* * *

><p>Mohinder had been returning from making his own facilities when he had seen them. Sylar and Peter, kissing. They were standing against the side of their cabin, a few rows down from where he hid. No doubt getting a moment away from their new protégé. Luke?<p>

Mohinder didn't think of himself as a voyeur, but he couldn't help being captivated by the sight of the two handsome men. Their dark heads moving together, mouths and hands caressing tenderly, maybe even desperately.

In the midst of all this desolation, it was beautiful. A siren's call.

It was clear that they were practiced at this. Comfortable with one another. But what struck Mohinder as telling was the way they were kissing. Like they knew that it wasn't going to go any farther, but they wanted to enjoy it anyway. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the erotic display. It was so obviously filled with genuine feeling.

Their bodies were touching but still, all motion confined to above the waist. Peter was leaned against Sylar, whose back was against the cabin.

Every so often, one would start moving his hips. Soon they would both be moving, grinding together. After only a handful of seconds though, they would stop frotting, stop kissing altogether, and simply stand in each other's arms.

Mohinder bit his lip, his hand absently gripping the corner of the cabin he was standing behind, as they started the dance all over again.

So that's what he kisses like. And after all this time, when we are finally on a similar footing...

Mohinder's thoughts trailed off as he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see Noah Bennet skulking about.

"What do you want, Bennet?" Mohinder's quiet voice still managed to convey his contempt.

Noah looked to the men in the distance and smirked. "I was just takin' a walk. What do you want, Mohinder?" he asked silkily.

"Just a good night's sleep." Mohinder tried not to sound defensive. "I think that's all any of us can ask for at this point."

Oh, I don't know, Noah thought as the scientist walked away. He glanced back to the show, which had heated up when they weren't looking. Apparently, there's a little bit more you can ask for these days. He smirked again.

_'Not bad, Gabriel. Not bad, at all.'_

Sylar gave him the finger behind Peter's back, not breaking their passionate kiss.

Noah chuckled as he followed Mohinder back to the cabin. He felt hopeful for the first time in months. Peter would be a positive influence on Sylar. The boy was so damned good, it would probably soak into the killer through osmosis, judging by the way they were going at it.

And Sylar... Deep down, Noah knew the man really wanted to change. Despite Noah's best efforts, it looked like he was going to get a real chance. And was grabbing it with both hands, it seemed.

Noah was nothing if not adaptable. He could tell a desperate situation when he was smack in the middle of it. And if he was going to quibble about working for a psychopath, he should have spoken up long ago. He was so lost in thought, he didn't see Claire until she was almost beside him.

"Dad, there you are. We need to talk," she said, taking his arm.

"Why, what's wrong?"

"The Petrellis are crazy. Can they not be my biological family anymore?"

"Claire, calm down and tell me what's happened."

"Angela just told me that Sylar's her godson? Apparently, Catholics take that very seriously. And she keeps calling him Gabriel. It's freaking me out, Dad. Add to that Peter shacking up with him and some slacker kid from New Jersey... it just doesn't make sense. I thought I knew Peter, but this..."

"Claire, I know it's a lot to take in, but..."

"Oh no, not you too," she moaned, letting go of him. "It's like Nathan and I flew through some vortex and landed in Bizzaro World."

At Noah's curious look she added, "did I mention I got a job at a comic book store?"

"Claire, honey, listen to me." Noah pulled her to sit down with him on the steps of a nearby cabin. "This sort of thing happens a lot in my world. When new players enter the scene and change it, allegiances often change too. Sometimes people end up on sides, and with allies they never expect. They don't call it strange bedfellows for nothing."

"I am so tired of everyone telling me to listen. No one listens to me. Sylar is dangerous. As soon as he gets tired of playing the good guy, or Peter and he have a fight, he's going to turn on all of us."

"When did you become so cynical?"

She just raised her eyebrows.

"Okay, I'll admit. I'm the first to be skeptical of anything Sylar says. Or Angela Petrelli for that matter. But I think it's time you learned that there are always two sides. If you want, I could give you another perspective."

"What do you mean?"

"Ah Claire," Noah paused as he ran his hands over her hair and down to her shoulders. "I thought I could keep you out of this. Keep you safe. Innocent. My little girl."

Father and daughter shared a sad smile.

"Dad..."

"I know, I know." He pulled her close, never wanting to let her go.

"It's time I accepted that it's too late for that. So I'm going to tell you a story. About me, Elle, and a man named Gabriel Gray. And it's ugly. And I'm not gonna come off lookin' too good in it, but it's the truth. About me and Sylar, and the men we used to be. And if you and I are gonna stay here... join this army he and Peter are creating..." Noah looked into his daughter's eyes one last time before taking this incredible chance, "then it's a story you need to hear."

* * *

><p>Sylar broke the kiss with a groan and leaned his head back against the wall.<p>

"Peter, if we don't stop, I'm going to throw you down and fuck you right here. To hell with whoever walks by."

"Did someone walk by?"

Sylar just smiled and lowered his head to kiss those soft lips one more time.

"We really need to get some sleep," he whispered against Peter's mouth.

"I know. I'm just... keyed up, you know? Meeting up with everybody. This place. The idea of bringing everyone else together here. Everything's gonna change, now. We're gonna change everything."

"Not that I don't appreciate your enthusiasm, but what if... it's already too late to stop this?" Sylar asked carefully. "What if it's just fighting back for the rest of our lives? Never winning. Never being free."

"It can't be. We can't let it be. If we don't have hope, if we give up, then we're as good as dead. We have to believe that it's never too late to change things."

"Isn't that a song lyric?"

"Would you shut up? I'm serious."

"And I'm teasing. Babe, do you think I'd be here if I didn't seriously have faith in you? If I didn't respect you? If I didn't think we could pull this off?" He cupped the back of Peter's neck and pulled him close again. "It'll be all right. I promise, we'll fix this."

Peter's eyebrows reached his hairline as he tilted his head and looked up at the man sideways. "Who are you, and what have you done with my Sylar?"

The taller man looked chagrined. "What can I say, making out with you while you're feeling so hopeful, doesn't exactly make me feel very Sylar-y. Man, maybe Noah was right."

"About what?"

"Osmosis," Sylar answered solemnly.

Peter frowned with uncertainty. Sylar just shook his head. Lowering his arm to Peter's shoulder, he steered them back to the steps.

Luke was on his cot listening to a CD player with headphones and reading '9th Wonders' by flashlight when they entered. History homework, Peter had called it, when he handed the stack of comics to him.

Peter walked over to the table they had set up in the middle of the oblong building, separating the two sleeping areas. He picked up Maria's file and another flashlight and joined Gabriel on their bed. It was really two cots melted together and the mattresses were stacked two levels thick, so it wasn't too bad. The lack of bedding sucked though.

They went through the file together. There wasn't much. Several reports stamped Building 26 were about experimentation. They were all signed by Dr. Chandra Suresh. Peter found the report that he assumed had Mohinder so upset. It was from her original arrest by a government agent with army escort.

She had been one of the first to be rounded up, so the men responsible were inexperienced. The agent writing the report said clearly that they hadn't known what to expect, and that two of the soldiers with him had panicked.

One of the parents had apparently had telekinesis, and had tried to stop them from taking her. Maria was the only one in the household that spoke English, and had not been able to translate fast enough, or possibly well enough. Her parents had also panicked. The author speculated that as immigrants from Sicily, perhaps they had misjudged the situation.

Either way, both of Maria's parents had ended up dead. She arrived at the camp several months before Angela, fifteen, and alone. Her parents' bodies were retained by the government for scientific testing. Initial examination had been done... by Dr. Chandra Suresh. The bodies had been removed to D.C. for further analysis and storage.

The author ended the report by recommending that they begin detaining whole families, and expand the facility at Coyote Sands accordingly. Reasons he lists are that abilities seem to be inherited, and to prevent other incidences like this one.

* * *

><p>Later, Peter sat leaning against the foot rail with his focus on Gabriel, who was laying on his back across from him while staring up at the ceiling. Luke seemed to be asleep. He watched with relief as his far too silent partner slowly stretched his hand out over the bare mattress. Peter crawled across the bed, and knelt beside him to take it.<p>

"I'm really glad you asked me to be your partner," Sylar said quietly, kissing Peter's wrist.

Peter reached out with his other hand and combed it through his hair, stroking down his cheek. He leaned over and kissed his forehead.

"So am I," Peter whispered, nuzzling his face against the other, stubbly one. "So am I."

Peter laid down, facing him. They stayed like that, holding hands, enjoying the calm after the day's excitement. It was nice being alone again, even with Luke on the other side of the room. It had gotten crowded and complicated fast.

"Do you know what Giovanni means?" Peter asked after a few quiet moments.

"Do you?"

"Yeah. I uh, did a report in high school on Italian surnames."

"Well?"

"Giovanni means 'God is gracious'."

Sylar let this sink in. "And Petrelli?"

"Same as Peter. 'Rock'. As in 'the rock God built his church upon.'"

A picture of his old apartment flashed in Sylar's mind. Where jagged pleas to The Almighty covered the walls in paint and blood.

"Do you really believe in all that? God? Grace? Forgiveness?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, I do."

Sylar looked down to their joined hands, a troubled expression on his face.

"Talk to me, babe. I can feel you going crazy over there." Peter whispered a little while later.

"All of this is crazy, Peter. This whole situation is... ridiculous, and unbelievable. All my life, I never felt like I fit in. I was small. Insignificant. A simple watchmaker's son from Brooklyn. Even after I started killing, part of me always wanted to be just that.

"I was nothing to nobody. I was always alone. I didn't have friends, or girlfriends. Just my mother. The woman I thought was my mother. And she... I know she loved me, I guess... but she always pushed me to be more than I was. More than I wanted to be. She was never satisfied, with just me."

Peter moved so that he was laying against Sylar's body as he waited for the rest. Long arms came around him and one hand found it's way into his hair.

"And when I found out that I was more?" Sylar went on. "That I could take what I wanted? More was all I wanted. Until I looked around, and all I saw was blood. I hated myself. I hated everything. I wanted to kill, everything. And I could. And it felt so good. It made me feel so powerful."

"I know. I know exactly what you mean. "

Sylar closed his eyes and held Peter tighter, kissing the top of his head.

"By the time I realized that I didn't want to be alone after all, that maybe I didn't hate as much as I thought, or maybe I had exhausted it, that maybe I didn't need to feel so powerful, if it meant also being alone, I'd gone so far. I didn't know how to come back. If it was even possible.

"And now I find out that all along, I've been a part of this... it's not even a conspiracy really. It's just this huge, god-awful thing. I thought I was special. But I'm just another bloody piece of this terrible history that's already drenched in blood. I don't know who I am anymore. What I'm supposed to be."

Peter lifted his head from Sylar's chest to look him in the eye.

"You are Gabriel Giovanni-Gray. And you're Sylar. And you're whoever you choose to be from now on. My partner. And the man who's going to help me save everyone."

"And you'll save me?" Sylar's fingertips lightly stroked Peter's cheek.

"If you let me." Peter's eyes were wide and serious, shining in the moonlight. Equally dark eyes, glistening too with unshed emotion, found his.

"Who else could, but you?"

"You," Peter answered, giving him a soft kiss. He put his head back down and closed his eyes.

Sylar sighed as he wrapped his arms around the best thing to ever happen to him.

"There's more," Sylar spoke up suddenly.

"What more?"

"Angela's got more to tell us about what happened here."

"Do you know what?"

"There are bones in them thar hills." At Peter's startled expression, he elaborated.

"Bones, remains of dead specials. I didn't get all of it, but there is some mass unmarked grave from some tragedy that happened here. Her parents' bodies are here, I think. She wants us to find them, and that is what the shovels are for."

"My god, that's... Can this day please end now?"

Sylar nodded in commiseration and closed his eyes.


End file.
